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In a calm suburb of the city, a person is standing outside his home, dressed in a vest and voicing his concerns. “I notice myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” remarks the protagonist, gazing up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems without a change, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his closest companion, considers the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers exhausted by the chaos and fast pace of modern television offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives similar to a foil blanket with a hot drink of Ribena.

In line with its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment comedy written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the novelist’s understated book – casts a critical eye toward today's world; looking critically over its eyewear toward anything related to loud sounds, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage to people satisfied to amble along out of the spotlight. And yet. Leonard (another sublimely idiosyncratic performance by the actor) feels restless. He feels a growing “need to open the entryways in my existence … slightly.” The passing of his parent has yanked the floor away from his feet and this young man, a writer for others, now realizes reconsidering the paths which led him to where he is (alone; defensively moustached; creating multiple educational volumes for a man who signs off correspondence using the words “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard starts an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his trusted friend, mentor and co-conspirator during their regular gaming session which acts as discussion (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The beginning of this name is shrouded in history. Perhaps he once ate a snack very fast, or reacted to an awkward situation by hastily opening four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new energetic colleague who cheerily offers to get rid of the awful manager (the actor) at a fire practice. The rushing noise you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part in the first episode of a series driven less by plot and more by what a modern audience might call “mood”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the actor), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches television game programs to dazzle his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Guiding viewers through all this subtle warmth there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “certainly the inclusion of such a famous actor is at odds with the program's low-key style and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue for example “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts fade though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, sometimes downward toward the ground, quietly confident that nothing is in life as heartening as being alongside dear pals.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and welcome it inside.