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In a quiet neighborhood of the city, a man is standing outside his home, wearing a vest and sharing his concerns. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” states Leonard, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and currently it seems without a change, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, ponders the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe swaying with the wind. “Preferable to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For those exhausted by the chaos and fast pace of modern television terrain, the show steps in similar to a foil blanket with a hot drink of Ribena.

In line with its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode program developed by its authors, adapted from the novelist’s quiet story – looks disapprovingly at modern life; peering critically through its eyewear toward anything that involves loud sounds, quick actions or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute of those happy to wander below the parapet. And yet. He (another sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from the star) is uneasy. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the openings within my world … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now feels questioning the decisions that have brought him to where he is (single; with a protective mustache; working on multiple children’s encyclopedias for an employer who concludes emails saying “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his trusted friend, guide and partner in a weekly gaming session functioning as both symposium (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. It could be that the postal worker once ate a sandwich in record time, or responded to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new energetic colleague who cheerily offers to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement you can hear represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy not heavily plotted and more by what a modern audience might call “mood”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews trivia competitions to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Leading the audience throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the inclusion of such a famous actor contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just an interruption?” you're right. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines like “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings give way if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The show's core is well-intentioned: the right place being “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, pointing out its favourite duck.” The program that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up at the stars, occasionally down at its feet, calmly assured that nothing is in the world as cheering as spending time alongside good friends.

Unlock the entryways within your world, slightly, and welcome it inside.