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In a calm neighborhood of the city, a person can be found in his driveway, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and voicing his feelings. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says Leonard, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and currently I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best companion, considers the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his robe swaying gently. “Better than striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For those weary by the bluster and fast pace of today’s TV terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

In line with its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment program developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the novelist’s quiet book – looks disapprovingly at modern life; peering skeptically above its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything that involves disturbances, quick actions or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. This show rather, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration of those satisfied to amble along out of the spotlight. And yet. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic performance from the star) feels restless. He notices a creeping “need to open the entryways within my world … just a bit.” The passing of his mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and Leonard, a ghost writer, now realizes questioning the choices which led him to his current situation (single; with a protective mustache; creating several children’s encyclopedias for an employer who concludes emails with the phrase “see you later”).

Thus Leonard starts an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (the actor) functioning as his confidante, guide and partner during their regular gaming session that serves both as debate (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The source of the moniker appears lost to the mists of time. It could be that he previously devoured some food very fast, or answered to an awkward situation by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a new colleague (the performer), a new spring-loaded co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. The swift movement noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the initial show of the comedy not heavily plotted and centered around what a modern audience might call “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who covertly observes, saves and reviews trivia competitions to dazzle his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Guiding us through all this minor-key niceness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Yes, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “surely the use of such a famous actor clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a diversion?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” help ensure that initial doubts yield if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its preferred bird.” The program that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up at the stars, at other times looking toward the ground, calmly assured that nothing is on Earth as cheering as spending time alongside good friends.

Unlock the entryways of your life, just a bit, and allow it entry.