🔗 Share this article

In a peaceful area of the city, a man is standing outside his home, wearing a tank top and expressing his feelings. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” states Leonard, staring into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and currently I believe without a change, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his only companion, considers this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his dressing gown moving with the wind. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For those exhausted by the bluster and fast pace of modern television offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives as a cozy wrap and warming mug of Ribena.

Similar to its gentle leads, the series – a half-dozen installment comedy written by its authors, inspired by the author’s quiet 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly at modern life; looking critically over its spectacles toward anything that involves loud sounds, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – too much drive. The program is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage to people satisfied to wander away from attention. And yet. The character (one more sublimely idiosyncratic performance by the actor) is unsettled. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the entryways of my life … slightly.” The recent death of his beloved mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now feels reconsidering the paths that directed him to where he is (alone; defensively moustached; writing several children’s encyclopedias for a boss who ends emails using the words “see you later”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and co-conspirator in a weekly board games evening that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the moniker seems forgotten to the mists of time. It could be that the postal worker previously devoured a sandwich very fast, or responded to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening several snacks with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a vibrant character (the performer), a new lively associate who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the initial show of a series not heavily plotted and more on what a modern audience might call “atmosphere”, we meet Paul's father (the brilliant the actor), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, saves and reviews trivia competitions to dazzle his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Shepherding us throughout this gentle kindness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “surely the inclusion of a big-name celebrity clashes with the program's low-key style and starts off as just a distraction?” you're right. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases such as “Leonard’s problem is the missing a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining for now. The series' spirit is in the right place: that place is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, indicating its preferred bird.” This is a show that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up toward the sky, sometimes downward toward the ground, serenely certain that nothing is in the world as uplifting as spending time in the company of dear pals.

Throw open the portals within your world, slightly, and allow it entry.