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In a peaceful area of the city, a person can be found in his driveway, dressed in a tank top and expressing his concerns. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says the protagonist, looking into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and at this point it seems unless I take action, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his only confidant, ponders the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his bathrobe swaying in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and constant stimulation of current streaming offerings, the show steps in like a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment comedy written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the author’s subtle story – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; peering critically above its spectacles toward anything in the way of unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – too much drive. This show on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration for those satisfied to wander below the parapet. But. The character (another uniquely quirky turn from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He senses an increasing “desire to unlock the entryways within my world … slightly.” The passing of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now feels reconsidering the decisions that have brought him to where he is (single; defensively moustached; working on multiple kids' reference books for a man who signs off emails using the words “see you later”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his close companion, guide and ally in a weekly gaming session that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The source of the nickname appears lost in mystery. It could be that Paul once ate a sandwich unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent spring-loaded co-worker who cheerily offers to kill his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise audible represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of this program focused less on story and centered around what younger viewers may refer to as “mood”, we are introduced to the older generation (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to amaze his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding us amidst this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and truly is – the famous actress. Indeed, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a distraction?” you're right. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases like “Leonard's challenge is the missing a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that initial doubts yield if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit is in the right place: that place is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, indicating its favourite duck.” The program that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, at other times looking toward the ground, calmly assured that nothing is on Earth as cheering as being alongside close companions.

Throw open the portals in your existence, just a bit, and allow it entry.