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In a quiet area of the city, a man can be found in his driveway, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and expressing his concerns. “It seems like my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” states Leonard, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and now it seems without a change, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, ponders these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers exhausted by the bluster and constant stimulation of modern television terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

In line with its quiet characters, the series – a six-episode program written by the writing duo, based on the novelist’s understated 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; looking skeptically over its eyewear toward anything that involves unnecessary noise, quick actions or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those content to wander below the parapet. But. Leonard (another distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a creeping “need to open the entryways of my life … a little.” The passing of his parent has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now finds himself reconsidering the choices that have brought him to where he is (alone; defensively moustached; working on multiple educational volumes for a boss who concludes correspondence using the words “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard starts himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (the performer) acting as his confidante, mentor and partner in a weekly game night that serves both as debate (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of this name appears lost in history. Maybe Paul previously devoured some food very fast, or answered to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a vibrant character (the performer), a recent lively associate who lightheartedly proposes to kill the awful manager (the actor) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the first episode of a series driven less by plot and more on what the under-30s could describe as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding viewers throughout this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the star. In case you're considering, “certainly the use of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you're right. However, the actress performs admirably, and phrases for example “Leonard's challenge is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that early misgivings fade if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: which is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, pointing out the duck it loves.” The program that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, at times staring toward the sky, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is in life as cheering as being alongside close companions.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and allow it entry.