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In a calm area of the Irish capital, a person is standing on the pavement, sporting a tank top and expressing his thoughts. “It seems like myself getting quieter. More invisible,” remarks the protagonist, staring into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I believe if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his only confidant, ponders this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his dressing gown flapping in the breeze. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a foil blanket with a hot drink of Ribena.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, the series – a half-dozen installment program developed by its authors, based on Rónán Hession’s understated story – casts a critical eye at modern life; gazing disapprovingly through its spectacles on everything in the way of unnecessary noise, quick actions or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The program rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage for those happy to wander below the parapet. And yet. He (another uniquely quirky performance from the star) is unsettled. He feels an increasing “urge to throw open the openings within my world … a little.” The passing of his mother has whisked the rug out from under him and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now finds himself questioning the decisions which led him to where he is (single; with a protective mustache; creating multiple educational volumes for an employer who concludes correspondence with the phrase “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard begins an exploration for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the performer) acting as his trusted friend, guide and ally during their regular gaming session that serves both as discussion (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of this name appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe Paul once ate some food unusually quickly, or reacted to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes Shelley (the actress), a new spring-loaded colleague who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound noticeable represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of this program not heavily plotted and more on what a modern audience could describe as “mood”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who privately views, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding the audience through all this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of a major Hollywood star clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and lines like “Leonard’s problem is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that early misgivings fade if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its preferred bird.” This is a show that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, at times staring into space, at other times looking toward the ground, quietly confident that nothing is on Earth as uplifting as passing time with good friends.

Throw open the portals within your world, a little, and allow it entry.