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In a peaceful suburb of the city, a person can be found in his driveway, wearing a vest and voicing his thoughts. “I feel myself getting quieter. More invisible,” says Leonard, looking up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and at this point it seems if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, Leonard’s best companion, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his bathrobe flapping gently. “Preferable to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone tired by the bluster and fast pace of today’s TV offerings, the show steps in like a cozy wrap with a hot drink of Ribena.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a half-dozen installment program created by the writing duo, adapted from Rónán Hession’s subtle story – takes a dim view toward today's world; looking critically through its spectacles at anything that involves disturbances, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. This show on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage for those content to amble along away from attention. However. He (one more sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He senses a creeping “need to open the openings in my existence … slightly.” The recent death of his parent has pulled the carpet out from under him and Leonard, a ghost writer, now finds himself reconsidering the choices that have brought him to his current situation (alone; with a protective mustache; writing multiple educational volumes for a man who ends emails saying “see you later”).

And so Leonard begins on a journey for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the performer) acting as his close companion, life coach and ally during their regular board games evening which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The origin of the moniker seems forgotten in history. It could be that the postal worker once ate a sandwich unusually quickly, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts Shelley (the performer), a new spring-loaded co-worker who happily suggests to get rid of his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The rushing noise audible represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy not heavily plotted and more on what younger viewers might call “atmosphere”, we are introduced to the older generation (the ever-wonderful the actor), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to amaze his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Leading us amidst this gentle kindness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “surely the inclusion of such a famous actor is at odds with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a distraction?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations fade though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The series' spirit is in the right place: which is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating the duck it loves.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, occasionally down toward the ground, quietly confident that nothing is in life as uplifting as being alongside good friends.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.