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In a peaceful suburb of the city, a man can be found on the pavement, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and expressing his thoughts. “It seems like my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” states the protagonist, gazing into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and now I believe if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, considers the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his dressing gown flapping in the breeze. “Better than trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV terrain, the show comes similar to a warm cover and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the novelist’s quiet book – takes a dim view on contemporary society; gazing critically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything in the way of disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute to people satisfied to amble along below the parapet. And yet. The character (one more distinctly original turn by the actor) is uneasy. He senses an increasing “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … just a bit.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor out from under him and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now finds himself reconsidering the decisions that directed him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; working on a range of educational volumes for a man who signs off emails with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard starts on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Paul (the performer) functioning as his confidante, life coach and ally in a recurring gaming session functioning as both symposium (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The source of the moniker is shrouded to the mists of time. Perhaps the postal worker on one occasion consumed some food very fast, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling some food items with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new energetic associate who cheerily offers to kill the awful manager (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In other scenes during the opening installment of a series focused less on story and centered around what younger viewers might call “atmosphere”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the performer), a tired character who covertly observes, records then replays television game programs to amaze his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Guiding viewers throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the star. Should you wonder, “certainly the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a diversion?” you're right. Nevertheless, 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 quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: that place is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, showing its preferred bird.” It’s a series that moves gently in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up into space, occasionally down at its feet, serenely certain that there is nothing in life as cheering as spending time with good friends.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and allow it entry.