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In a peaceful suburb of the city, an individual can be found in his driveway, wearing a tank top and sharing his concerns. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says the main character, staring into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and at this point I believe without a change, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his closest confidant, considers this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his bathrobe swaying gently. “Better than striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For viewers weary by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of modern television offerings, this series comes like a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment comedy created by the writing duo, adapted from the novelist’s subtle 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; peering critically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything that involves loud sounds, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The program rather, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those satisfied to pootle around out of the spotlight. But. He (one more distinctly original portrayal by the actor) is uneasy. He notices a growing “need to open the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The passing of his parent has yanked the floor away from his feet and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels questioning the choices that directed him to where he is (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing several educational volumes for an employer who concludes emails with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard begins on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the actor) serving as his trusted friend, guide and co-conspirator during their regular gaming session that serves both as debate (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The source of this name is shrouded in history. It could be that he once ate some food in record time, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling some food items using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new lively associate who happily suggests to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) during the office fire drill. The swift movement noticeable represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of this program focused less on story and centered around what the under-30s could describe as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to dazzle his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Guiding the audience throughout this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “certainly the use of such a famous actor clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue such as “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a look of sudden insight” help ensure that early misgivings give way if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: that place is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, indicating the duck it loves.” It’s a series that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up at the stars, occasionally down at its slippers, calmly assured that nothing is on Earth as uplifting as being alongside close companions.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, just a bit, and welcome it inside.