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In a quiet neighborhood of the Irish capital, a man is standing on the pavement, wearing a vest and sharing his thoughts. “I notice my voice is fading. More invisible,” remarks Leonard, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point it seems if I don’t do something, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his only and only friend, reflects on these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his robe moving in the breeze. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For anyone exhausted by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of modern television offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part program developed by its authors, adapted from the author’s subtle book – casts a critical eye at modern life; peering skeptically through its eyewear on everything that involves unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The program rather, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration for those content to wander below the parapet. However. Leonard (a further distinctly original performance by the actor) is uneasy. He feels a growing “need to open the openings within my world … a little.” The passing of his mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now finds himself reconsidering the paths which led him to his current situation (alone; defensively moustached; writing several educational volumes for a man who signs off correspondence with the phrase “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the performer) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and partner in a weekly gaming session functioning as both debate (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of this name appears lost to the mists of time. It could be that he once ate a sandwich very fast, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling some food items with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a new colleague (the performer), a new lively associate who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the first episode of the comedy not heavily plotted and centered around what younger viewers could describe as “mood”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who covertly observes, records then replays television game programs to impress his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Guiding the audience amidst this subtle warmth we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “certainly the presence of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you're right. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue like “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.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The series' spirit is in the right place: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, pointing out its preferred bird.” It’s a series that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, occasionally down toward the ground, serenely certain that there is nothing in the world as heartening as spending time with good friends.

Throw open the portals of your life, just a bit, and let it in.