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In a peaceful area of the Irish capital, a man stands on the pavement, dressed in a vest and voicing his concerns. “I feel my voice is fading. More invisible,” remarks Leonard, looking into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his closest companion, considers these words. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his robe swaying in the breeze. “Superior to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone weary by the noise and constant stimulation of today’s TV landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Like its harmless protagonists, the series – a half-dozen installment comedy created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the novelist’s quiet story – takes a dim view at modern life; looking disapprovingly above its spectacles on everything related to disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – too much drive. This show is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute to people happy to pootle around away from attention. And yet. Leonard (one more distinctly original turn from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He feels a growing “urge to throw open the doors and windows within my world … slightly.” The passing of his parent has yanked the floor away from his feet and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels doubting the choices that directed him to where he is (single; with a protective mustache; creating several educational volumes for a man who concludes correspondence using the words “see you later”).

And so Leonard begins on a journey for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and ally in a recurring game night which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm 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 moniker seems forgotten in history. Maybe Paul previously devoured a snack in record time, or answered to an awkward situation by nervously peeling some food items with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a new colleague (the actress), a new lively colleague who happily suggests to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the character) during the office fire drill. The swift movement noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the initial show of a series driven less by plot and more by what younger viewers may refer to as “vibes”, we are introduced to the older generation (the ever-wonderful the actor), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to amaze his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Shepherding us amidst this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the inclusion of such a famous actor is at odds with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue such as “Leonard's challenge is his absence of an expression of discovery” help ensure that initial doubts give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism for now. The show's core is well-intentioned: which is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward into space, sometimes downward at its feet, serenely certain that nothing is in the world as cheering as spending time alongside dear pals.

Unlock the entryways of your life, a little, and welcome it inside.