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In a quiet neighborhood of the city, a person stands in his driveway, sporting a tank top and sharing his concerns. “It seems like my voice is fading. Harder to see,” remarks the main character, looking into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his only companion, considers the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and constant stimulation of today’s TV landscape, the show arrives as a cozy wrap with a hot drink of Ribena.

In line with its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode show developed by its authors, based on the novelist’s quiet story – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking disapprovingly through its spectacles on everything that involves disturbances, quick actions or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The series rather, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute for those happy to pootle around away from attention. And yet. The character (another uniquely quirky turn by the actor) is uneasy. He senses an increasing “need to open the entryways in my existence … a little.” The loss of his beloved mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now feels reconsidering the choices which led him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; creating multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who signs off emails using the words “see you later”).

Thus Leonard starts an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the actor) functioning as his trusted friend, guide and ally during their regular gaming session functioning as both debate (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The origin of the moniker appears lost in history. Perhaps the postal worker once ate some food unusually quickly, or responded to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening some food items by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent lively colleague who lightheartedly proposes to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) at a fire practice. The swift movement noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the first episode of a series not heavily plotted and centered around what younger viewers may refer to as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the actor), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to dazzle his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Leading the audience throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the star. If you are thinking, “surely the use of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a distraction?” that's accurate. However, Roberts does a good job, and lines such as “Leonard's challenge is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that first reservations fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining for now. The series' spirit is in the right place: the right place being “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out the duck it loves.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, at other times looking at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is on Earth as heartening as passing time alongside good friends.

Open the doors and windows of your life, slightly, and allow it entry.