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In a peaceful area of the Irish capital, a man can be found in his driveway, wearing a tank top and expressing his concerns. “I notice myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” states the main character, staring into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and now I believe if I don’t do something, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his only and only friend, reflects on the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his robe moving in the breeze. “Superior to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For viewers tired by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a foil blanket and warming mug of Ribena.

Like its harmless protagonists, the series – a half-dozen installment program developed by its authors, based on the author’s understated story – takes a dim view at modern life; gazing critically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything that involves disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The program rather, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those satisfied to pootle around out of the spotlight. And yet. The character (another distinctly original turn from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the doors and windows in my existence … a little.” The passing of his mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and Leonard, a writer for others, now realizes doubting the paths which led him to where he is (single; sporting facial hair; creating several educational volumes for an employer who ends emails using the words “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard starts an exploration to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the performer) serving as his trusted friend, life coach and partner in a weekly game night which acts as debate (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The beginning of this name is shrouded in history. It could be that the postal worker on one occasion consumed some food very fast, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening some food items using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts Shelley (the actress), a new spring-loaded associate who happily suggests to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) at a fire practice. The swift movement you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the first episode of a series not heavily plotted and more on what the under-30s could describe as “mood”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the actor), a tired character who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches television game programs to impress his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Guiding us throughout this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and actually is – the famous actress. Yes, the star. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as an interruption?” that's accurate. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases such as “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that initial doubts give way if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism at this time. The show's core has good intentions: that place is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its preferred bird.” The program that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring at the stars, occasionally down toward the ground, quietly confident that no experience is on Earth as heartening as being in the company of dear pals.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, a little, and welcome it inside.