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In a peaceful area of the Irish capital, a person can be found outside his home, sporting a sleeveless jumper and voicing his thoughts. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” remarks the main character, looking toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and currently I feel like unless I take action, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, reflects on these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his dressing gown swaying gently. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of modern television terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its gentle leads, the series – a six-part comedy developed by its authors, based on the author’s understated book – takes a dim view at modern life; looking critically above its eyewear toward anything that involves loud sounds, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute for those happy to pootle around below the parapet. But. Leonard (another distinctly original portrayal by the actor) is unsettled. He feels a creeping “desire to unlock the openings in my existence … just a bit.” The passing of his beloved mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and this young man, a ghost writer, now feels questioning the choices which led him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; creating multiple educational volumes for a man who signs off emails using the words “see you later”).

And so Leonard launches an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (the actor) functioning as his close companion, life coach and partner in a recurring game night functioning as both symposium (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The beginning of the moniker appears lost in history. It could be that he previously devoured a sandwich unusually quickly, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling several snacks by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes a new colleague (the performer), a new spring-loaded co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of this program not heavily plotted and more by what a modern audience could describe as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great the performer), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, records then replays trivia competitions to impress his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Guiding us throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Indeed, the star. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of such a famous actor contradicts the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a distraction?” you're right. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases for example “Leonard's challenge is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that early misgivings fade though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: that place is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, showing the duck it loves.” The program that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as heartening as spending time with dear pals.

Open the doors and windows within your world, just a bit, and welcome it inside.