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In a peaceful suburb of the city, an individual is standing on the pavement, wearing a tank top and expressing his concerns. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says the main character, looking into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I feel like unless I take action, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, ponders this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his dressing gown flapping in the breeze. “Superior to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For those tired by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of modern television terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in similar to a cozy wrap and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a half-dozen installment program developed by its authors, inspired by the novelist’s quiet 2019 novel – takes a dim view toward today's world; peering skeptically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything in the way of loud sounds, quick actions or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The series is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration to people happy to pootle around below the parapet. And yet. Leonard (another sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal by the actor) feels restless. He notices a creeping “desire to unlock the doors and windows in my existence … slightly.” The loss of his beloved mother has yanked the floor out from under him and this young man, a ghost writer, now feels doubting the paths that have brought him to where he is (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing a range of educational volumes for a boss who concludes correspondence with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the actor) acting as his close companion, life coach and co-conspirator during their regular board games evening functioning as both discussion (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The origin of the nickname is shrouded in history. Perhaps he previously devoured some food very fast, or reacted to an awkward situation by panic-peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts a new colleague (the actress), a fresh spring-loaded associate who happily suggests to eliminate the awful manager (the actor) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of a series focused less on story and centered around what younger viewers might call “mood”, we meet the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to amaze his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Guiding the audience amidst this minor-key niceness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the presence of such a famous actor clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just an interruption?” you're right. Still, Roberts does a good job, and lines for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that first reservations fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The show's core is in the right place: that place is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its preferred bird.” The program that moves gently in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward into space, occasionally down toward the ground, calmly assured that there is nothing in life as cheering as being alongside close companions.

Unlock the entryways within your world, a little, and let it in.