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In a calm area of the city, a person can be found on the pavement, sporting a vest and sharing his thoughts. “It seems like myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” remarks the main character, gazing toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and at this point I feel like unless I take action, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his only confidant, ponders this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his dressing gown flapping with the wind. “Better than trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For those weary by the bluster and fast pace of modern television offerings, the show arrives as a warm cover and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode program created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the novelist’s quiet story – casts a critical eye at modern life; peering skeptically over its eyewear toward anything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration to people content to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. He (one more uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He senses an increasing “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The recent death of his parent has yanked the floor from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels questioning the choices that directed him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; creating multiple children’s encyclopedias for an employer who concludes correspondence saying “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard starts an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, guide and partner in a weekly gaming session which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname seems forgotten in mystery. Maybe he previously devoured a sandwich unusually quickly, or answered to a tense moment by panic-peeling some food items by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent spring-loaded colleague who lightheartedly proposes to kill his terrible supervisor (the character) during the office fire drill. The swift movement you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of the comedy focused less on story and centered around what the under-30s might call “mood”, we meet Paul's father (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Leading the audience through all this minor-key niceness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. Should you wonder, “surely the use of a big-name celebrity clashes with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as a distraction?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases such as “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that first reservations fade if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: the right place being “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, indicating its preferred bird.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up at the stars, at other times looking toward the ground, serenely certain that nothing is on Earth as cheering as spending time in the company of good friends.

Throw open the portals of your life, slightly, and welcome it inside.