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In a quiet area of the city, an individual can be found on the pavement, dressed in a tank top and sharing his feelings. “It seems like my voice is fading. Harder to see,” states the main character, looking toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and at this point it seems unless I take action, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his only confidant, considers this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his bathrobe swaying with the wind. “Superior to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and constant stimulation of modern television landscape, this series arrives similar to a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment comedy created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the author’s subtle story – takes a dim view at modern life; looking disapprovingly through its spectacles on everything in the way of unnecessary noise, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration to people content to pootle around away from attention. And yet. The character (another distinctly original turn from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a creeping “need to open the openings of my life … just a bit.” The recent death of his parent has yanked the floor from under his slippers and this young man, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the decisions which led him to where he is (alone; defensively moustached; writing a range of educational volumes for a man who signs off emails with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard launches on a journey for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the actor) acting as his trusted friend, mentor and ally in a weekly game night that serves both as debate (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The source of the moniker seems forgotten to the mists of time. Maybe Paul on one occasion consumed a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by hastily opening four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a new colleague (the performer), a recent energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. The swift movement noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the first episode of this program focused less on story and more on what a modern audience may refer to as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to dazzle his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Shepherding us through all this gentle kindness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the famous actress. Truly, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the show's modest approach and starts off as just a diversion?” you're right. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases such as “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. The show's core has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, indicating the duck it loves.” This is a show that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward into space, occasionally down at its feet, quietly confident that nothing is in life as uplifting as passing time in the company of good friends.

Throw open the portals of your life, slightly, and allow it entry.