🔗 Share this article

In a calm suburb of the city, an individual can be found outside his home, sporting a sleeveless jumper and expressing his thoughts. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” states the main character, staring into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I believe without a change, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his closest companion, ponders these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his bathrobe swaying in the breeze. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For those tired by the noise and rat-tat-tat of modern television offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in similar to a warm cover and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-part program written by the writing duo, adapted from the novelist’s understated story – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing skeptically over its eyewear on everything related to loud sounds, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. The program is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute for those content to pootle around away from attention. And yet. The character (a further uniquely quirky turn from the star) is uneasy. He senses an increasing “need to open the entryways in my existence … slightly.” The recent death of his mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the paths that have brought him to where he is (alone; sporting facial hair; working on multiple kids' reference books for an employer who signs off emails with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard launches an exploration for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his close companion, life coach and co-conspirator in a recurring game night functioning as both discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The source of the nickname seems forgotten in history. It could be that he once ate a sandwich in record time, or responded to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a new colleague (the actress), a new lively co-worker who cheerily offers to kill the awful manager (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The rushing noise audible is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and more by what younger viewers might call “atmosphere”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the performer), a tired character who privately views, tapes and rewatches television game programs to amaze his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding us through all this gentle kindness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the presence of a big-name celebrity contradicts the show's modest approach and starts off as just a diversion?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and phrases such as “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that first reservations give way if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism currently. The show's core is well-intentioned: which is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, showing its preferred bird.” This is a show that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward into space, occasionally down at its feet, serenely certain that nothing is in the world as heartening as spending time with dear pals.

Open the doors and windows within your world, a little, and allow it entry.