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In a peaceful neighborhood of the city, a person stands outside his home, wearing a sleeveless jumper and expressing his feelings. “It seems like my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” states Leonard, looking up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and now I feel like without a change, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his closest and only friend, ponders this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his bathrobe moving in the breeze. “Preferable to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers weary by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of current streaming offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a cozy wrap with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-episode program created by its authors, adapted from the author’s subtle book – casts a critical eye at modern life; looking skeptically through its eyewear toward anything related to unnecessary noise, quick actions or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. This show rather, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage to people satisfied to amble along away from attention. But. Leonard (one more distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the doors and windows within my world … a little.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now realizes reconsidering the choices that directed him to this point (alone; sporting facial hair; working on several children’s encyclopedias for an employer who signs off messages saying “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard begins himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) acting as his trusted friend, mentor and partner in a weekly board games evening functioning as both debate (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The origin of this name is shrouded in mystery. Perhaps the postal worker once ate a sandwich very fast, or responded to an awkward situation by nervously peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels Shelley (the performer), a recent lively colleague who happily suggests to get rid of the awful manager (the actor) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise noticeable represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

In other scenes during the opening installment of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what a modern audience might call “mood”, viewers encounter the older generation (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who privately views, records then replays television game programs to impress his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Leading viewers amidst this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and actually is – the famous actress. Indeed, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “surely the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you're right. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases like “Leonard’s problem is the missing an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts yield if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: which is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, pointing out its preferred bird.” This is a show that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, at times staring into space, sometimes downward toward the ground, quietly confident that no experience is in life as heartening as passing time alongside close companions.

Throw open the portals within your world, slightly, and welcome it inside.