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In a peaceful suburb of the city, a person stands in his driveway, sporting a vest and sharing his concerns. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” remarks the protagonist, staring into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and now I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his closest confidant, reflects on this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his dressing gown flapping with the wind. “Superior to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of today’s TV landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives similar to a warm cover and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

In line with its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part comedy written by the writing duo, inspired by Rónán Hession’s quiet 2019 novel – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing critically through its eyewear on everything in the way of unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute for those satisfied to pootle around out of the spotlight. But. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He feels a creeping “urge to throw open the entryways of my life … a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has yanked the floor out from under him and this young man, an anonymous author, now realizes doubting the choices which led him to this point (single; defensively moustached; writing several kids' reference books for an employer who concludes messages with the phrase “see you later”).

Thus Leonard launches an exploration for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his close companion, life coach and ally in a recurring game night which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The origin of the nickname is shrouded in history. Perhaps he on one occasion consumed a snack in record time, or responded to a tense moment by hastily opening several snacks using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new spring-loaded associate who lightheartedly proposes to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound audible represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the initial show of the comedy not heavily plotted and more by what a modern audience could describe as “vibes”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding the audience amidst this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the star. In case you're considering, “surely the presence of a major Hollywood star contradicts the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as a diversion?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and phrases for example “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that first reservations fade though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. The show's core has good intentions: which is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, showing its favourite duck.” This is a show that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, calmly assured that no experience is in the world as uplifting as passing time in the company of good friends.

Throw open the portals within your world, a little, and welcome it inside.