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In a calm neighborhood of the city, a person is standing outside his home, dressed in a tank top and expressing his feelings. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says the protagonist, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and now I believe unless I take action, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his only confidant, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Superior to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone tired by the noise and fast pace of current streaming offerings, the show steps in similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its quiet characters, the series – a six-part show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the novelist’s quiet book – takes a dim view toward today's world; looking disapprovingly above its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything that involves disturbances, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage to people satisfied to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. Leonard (a further uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He senses an increasing “urge to throw open the doors and windows within my world … just a bit.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and this young man, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the decisions which led him to his current situation (single; defensively moustached; creating multiple educational volumes for a boss who concludes correspondence with the phrase “see you later”).

Thus Leonard begins himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the performer) acting as his trusted friend, life coach and co-conspirator in a recurring board games evening that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The beginning of this name seems forgotten in history. Perhaps the postal worker once ate some food very fast, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a vibrant character (the performer), a fresh energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The swift movement you can hear represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

In another part in the initial show of this program driven less by plot and more by what a modern audience may refer to as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the brilliant the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to dazzle his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding viewers through all this subtle warmth there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the inclusion of such a famous actor contradicts the show's modest approach and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. However, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue for example “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations give way though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: that place is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, indicating the duck it loves.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward into space, sometimes downward toward the ground, serenely certain that nothing is in the world as uplifting as being in the company of good friends.

Unlock the entryways within your world, slightly, and let it in.