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In a peaceful suburb of Dublin, a man stands on the pavement, dressed in a vest and sharing his concerns. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” remarks the main character, staring into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and currently I believe without a change, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, considers the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his robe swaying with the wind. “Superior to trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For those exhausted by the bluster and constant stimulation of today’s TV offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a cozy wrap with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Like its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the author’s subtle 2019 novel – takes a dim view toward today's world; gazing disapprovingly above its spectacles toward anything related to disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The program rather, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute to people content to pootle around away from attention. And yet. He (one more distinctly original turn by the actor) is uneasy. He senses a growing “desire to unlock the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and this young man, an anonymous author, now realizes questioning the decisions that directed him to where he is (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who signs off correspondence saying “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard launches an exploration for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (the performer) functioning as his confidante, guide and ally in a recurring board games evening which acts as debate (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The origin of the nickname is shrouded to the mists of time. It could be that he on one occasion consumed a snack unusually quickly, or answered to an awkward situation by nervously peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels Shelley (the actress), a recent lively colleague who cheerily offers to kill his terrible supervisor (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement noticeable represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the first episode of a series driven less by plot and centered around what the under-30s might call “mood”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the performer), a tired character who covertly observes, saves and reviews trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding the audience amidst this gentle kindness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “surely the presence of a major Hollywood star contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” you're right. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts yield if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its favourite duck.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up into space, at other times looking at its feet, quietly confident that nothing is in life as uplifting as passing time in the company of close companions.

Throw open the portals of your life, slightly, and let it in.