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In a peaceful suburb of the Irish capital, an individual is standing on the pavement, wearing a sleeveless jumper and voicing his thoughts. “I notice myself getting quieter. More invisible,” says the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and now I feel like without a change, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his only and only friend, considers these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his dressing gown moving with the wind. “Superior to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For anyone weary by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of modern television offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a foil blanket with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

In line with its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by Rónán Hession’s understated book – takes a dim view toward today's world; peering skeptically above its eyewear on everything in the way of loud sounds, quick actions or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The program on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration of those satisfied to pootle around out of the spotlight. And yet. The character (another uniquely quirky portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices an increasing “need to open the entryways of my life … slightly.” The passing of his mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and this young man, a ghost writer, now finds himself reconsidering the paths that directed him to this point (single; defensively moustached; writing multiple educational volumes for a boss who signs off correspondence using the words “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard starts an exploration to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the actor) functioning as his close companion, guide and partner in a recurring gaming session that serves both as debate (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The source of this name is shrouded in history. Perhaps Paul on one occasion consumed a snack in record time, or responded to an awkward situation by nervously peeling some food items with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent lively colleague who cheerily offers to kill his terrible supervisor (the character) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “mood”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the actor), a worn-out individual who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Leading us throughout this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the star. If you are thinking, “surely the inclusion of a big-name celebrity clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a distraction?” you would be correct. However, the actress performs admirably, and phrases for example “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” help ensure that early misgivings give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism at this time. The show's core is well-intentioned: the right place being “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, indicating its favourite duck.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up into space, at other times looking toward the ground, quietly confident that no experience is in life as heartening as being in the company of close companions.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and allow it entry.