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In a calm area of the city, a man stands on the pavement, dressed in a tank top and expressing his feelings. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” remarks the main character, looking toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I believe unless I take action, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his only companion, considers the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his robe flapping gently. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For anyone weary by the bluster and fast pace of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in as a foil blanket with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its gentle leads, the series – a half-dozen installment program developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the author’s understated story – casts a critical eye at modern life; peering critically through its eyewear at anything that involves loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The program rather, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute of those content to pootle around away from attention. However. He (a further sublimely idiosyncratic turn by the actor) is unsettled. He senses a growing “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … slightly.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug from under his slippers and Leonard, a ghost writer, now realizes questioning the choices which led him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; writing a range of educational volumes for an employer who ends correspondence with the phrase “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard begins an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and ally in a weekly board games evening which acts as symposium (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, 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 appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe he previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or responded to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening some food items with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a new colleague (the actress), a recent energetic colleague who happily suggests to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound audible represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the initial show of this program not heavily plotted and more by what younger viewers might call “vibes”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to dazzle his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Leading viewers throughout this subtle warmth there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and actually is – the famous actress. Yes, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the presence of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just an interruption?” you would be correct. However, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue like “Leonard’s problem is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that initial doubts give way if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The series' spirit is in the right place: that place is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, showing the duck it loves.” This is a show that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward into space, occasionally down at its feet, calmly assured that no experience is on Earth as heartening as passing time in the company of close companions.

Throw open the portals in your existence, just a bit, and welcome it inside.