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In a quiet suburb of the city, a man stands in his driveway, wearing a sleeveless jumper and expressing his feelings. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” states Leonard, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and now I believe unless I take action, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on these words. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his robe flapping gently. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For anyone exhausted by the noise and fast pace of current streaming offerings, the show steps in like a cozy wrap with a hot drink of Ribena.

Similar to its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment comedy developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from Rónán Hession’s quiet book – looks disapprovingly at modern life; peering critically through its spectacles toward anything in the way of unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. This show rather, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute of those happy to wander below the parapet. However. The character (one more sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal by the actor) is uneasy. He feels a creeping “need to open the doors and windows in my existence … slightly.” The recent death of his mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now feels questioning the decisions that directed him to his current situation (single; defensively moustached; creating a range of kids' reference books for a man who signs off messages using the words “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard begins an exploration for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the actor) serving as his confidante, mentor and ally in a weekly game night that serves both as symposium (“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 beginning of the nickname appears lost in history. Maybe he previously devoured some food in record time, or responded to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes Shelley (the actress), a recent energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound you can hear represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

In another part in the initial show of this program driven less by plot and centered around what the under-30s might call “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant the performer), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to impress his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Leading the audience through all this minor-key niceness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of a big-name celebrity contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a diversion?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue for example “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that early misgivings yield though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The series' spirit is in the right place: which is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, indicating its preferred bird.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, quietly confident that there is nothing in the world as heartening as spending time in the company of dear pals.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.