🔗 Share this article

In a calm area of the city, a man stands in his driveway, wearing a tank top and expressing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” remarks Leonard, looking into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and currently I feel like unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his dressing gown moving in the breeze. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of modern television offerings, the show steps in similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Like its gentle leads, the series – a six-part comedy written by the writing duo, inspired by the author’s understated book – takes a dim view toward today's world; peering disapprovingly over its spectacles at anything in the way of unnecessary noise, quick actions or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. This show on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage for those content to amble along below the parapet. However. The character (another sublimely idiosyncratic performance from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He feels a growing “urge to throw open the entryways in my existence … slightly.” The passing of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and this young man, a ghost writer, now finds himself questioning the choices that have brought him to his current situation (unattached; with a protective mustache; working on multiple educational volumes for an employer who concludes emails saying “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the actor) serving as his close companion, life coach and partner in a weekly game night which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of this name is shrouded to the mists of time. It could be that he previously devoured a sandwich very fast, or responded to an awkward situation by nervously peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to kill his terrible supervisor (the actor) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the first episode of a series not heavily plotted and more by what a modern audience may refer to as “mood”, we meet the older generation (the ever-wonderful the actor), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays television game programs to amaze his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience throughout this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the show's modest approach and starts off as just an interruption?” you're right. However, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue for example “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that early misgivings give way though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism for now. The series' spirit is in the right place: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, indicating its preferred bird.” It’s a series that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, at other times looking toward the ground, calmly assured that no experience is on Earth as heartening as being in the company of good friends.

Open the doors and windows within your world, a little, and let it in.