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In a quiet neighborhood of the Irish capital, an individual stands on the pavement, wearing a vest and voicing his feelings. “It seems like my voice is fading. Harder to see,” says the main character, looking up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and now I believe if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his closest confidant, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe swaying gently. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those exhausted by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives similar to a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment comedy created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the author’s quiet book – casts a critical eye at modern life; peering disapprovingly through its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything in the way of unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. This show is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration of those content to wander out of the spotlight. However. The character (another distinctly original turn from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a growing “desire to unlock the entryways in my existence … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes reconsidering the decisions which led him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; writing several educational volumes for an employer who ends emails using the words “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his close companion, mentor and ally during their regular board games evening that serves both as debate (“Does the pool feel warm 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 origin of the moniker appears lost in mystery. Perhaps he on one occasion consumed a snack in record time, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling some food items using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts a new colleague (the actress), a new energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to kill the awful manager (the actor) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the initial show of this program not heavily plotted and centered around what the under-30s might call “mood”, we are introduced to the older generation (the consistently great the actor), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to impress his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience throughout this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the use of such a famous actor is at odds with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” you would be correct. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines for example “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that early misgivings give way if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, indicating its favourite duck.” The program that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, at other times looking toward the ground, serenely certain that there is nothing in life as uplifting as passing time in the company of dear pals.

Unlock the entryways within your world, slightly, and allow it entry.