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In a calm neighborhood of the city, a person is standing outside his home, dressed in a tank top and sharing his concerns. “I feel myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” says the main character, staring into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and currently I believe if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, Leonard’s best companion, ponders the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his dressing gown moving gently. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For viewers weary by the chaos and constant stimulation of modern television landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives similar to a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment program written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the author’s quiet 2019 novel – takes a dim view at modern life; gazing disapprovingly through its eyewear on everything in the way of loud sounds, quick actions or – heaven forfend – too much drive. This show is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute to people content to wander away from attention. And yet. The character (a further distinctly original performance by the actor) is unsettled. He notices an increasing “desire to unlock the doors and windows within my world … a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the paths which led him to his current situation (alone; defensively moustached; working on several children’s encyclopedias for an employer who ends correspondence saying “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Paul (the actor) acting as his close companion, mentor and co-conspirator in a recurring game night functioning as both debate (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The beginning of the nickname is shrouded in mystery. It could be that the postal worker previously devoured some food very fast, or answered to a tense moment by nervously peeling some food items using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes Shelley (the performer), a new lively co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to kill the awful manager (the actor) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound noticeable represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the initial show of the comedy not heavily plotted and centered around what younger viewers may refer to as “atmosphere”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to amaze his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Shepherding the audience throughout this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the use of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. Still, the actress performs admirably, and lines for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that first reservations fade if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its preferred bird.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, at times staring toward the sky, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that nothing is in the world as heartening as spending time alongside good friends.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.