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In a quiet area of Dublin, an individual stands in his driveway, wearing a tank top and voicing his concerns. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” remarks the protagonist, looking into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and currently I believe if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his closest companion, ponders these words. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his dressing gown swaying in the breeze. “Superior to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of modern television offerings, this series arrives similar to a foil blanket and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode comedy developed by its authors, based on the author’s quiet story – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; peering disapprovingly through its eyewear at anything related to loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The program on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage to people happy to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. The character (a further distinctly original turn by the actor) is uneasy. He notices a growing “need to open the doors and windows in my existence … slightly.” The passing of his parent has yanked the floor out from under him and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now feels reconsidering the choices which led him to where he is (single; defensively moustached; creating multiple educational volumes for a boss who signs off emails with the phrase “see you later”).

And so Leonard starts on a journey for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his confidante, guide and co-conspirator in a weekly game night functioning as both symposium (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The origin of the nickname seems forgotten in history. It could be that the postal worker once ate a snack very fast, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling some food items by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a vibrant character (the actress), a new spring-loaded associate who happily suggests to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part during the opening installment of a series driven less by plot and more by what younger viewers may refer to as “vibes”, we meet Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the actor), a tired character who secretly watches, saves and reviews television game programs to amaze his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding us throughout this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a distraction?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases for example “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that early misgivings give way if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism at this time. The show's core is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up toward the sky, occasionally down toward the ground, quietly confident that nothing is on Earth as cheering as spending time with good friends.

Open the doors and windows of your life, a little, and welcome it inside.