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In a calm neighborhood of the city, an individual can be found on the pavement, sporting a vest and sharing his thoughts. “I feel my voice is fading. Harder to see,” states the protagonist, looking toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point it seems unless I take action, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, reflects on these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his bathrobe flapping gently. “Preferable to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For anyone tired by the noise and fast pace of modern television landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes like a cozy wrap and warming mug of Ribena.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode comedy developed by its authors, adapted from the novelist’s understated story – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking skeptically above its spectacles at anything that involves loud sounds, quick actions or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute of those content to pootle around below the parapet. But. Leonard (another uniquely quirky performance from the star) feels restless. He feels a growing “need to open the entryways in my existence … a little.” The loss of his mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels doubting the paths which led him to where he is (alone; sporting facial hair; writing a range of children’s encyclopedias for an employer who ends correspondence saying “see you later”).

And so Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (the performer) functioning as his close companion, guide and ally in a recurring game night functioning as both discussion (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The source of this name appears lost to the mists of time. It could be that Paul on one occasion consumed some food unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by panic-peeling some food items with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts Shelley (the actress), a fresh lively co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of the comedy not heavily plotted and more by what a modern audience may refer to as “mood”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding the audience amidst this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “certainly the presence of a major Hollywood star clashes with the show's modest approach and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts does a good job, and lines for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks an expression of discovery” help ensure that initial doubts give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: that place is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, sometimes downward at its slippers, quietly confident that nothing is on Earth as heartening as being in the company of good friends.

Open the doors and windows within your world, slightly, and welcome it inside.