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In a quiet suburb of the Irish capital, a person stands in his driveway, sporting a tank top and expressing his concerns. “It seems like my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” remarks the protagonist, looking up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and now I feel like without a change, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his closest confidant, reflects on the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For those exhausted by the noise and constant stimulation of today’s TV landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in similar to a cozy wrap with a hot drink of Ribena.

Like its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-part program written by its authors, based on the author’s subtle story – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; gazing disapprovingly above its spectacles on everything in the way of disturbances, sudden movements or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series rather, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute to people happy to amble along below the parapet. However. He (another uniquely quirky turn from the star) feels restless. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the openings within my world … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes doubting the paths which led him to his current situation (alone; sporting facial hair; creating multiple educational volumes for a boss who concludes correspondence saying “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard begins an exploration to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) functioning as his confidante, life coach and ally in a weekly gaming session that serves both as symposium (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The origin of the moniker appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe the postal worker on one occasion consumed a sandwich in record time, or reacted to a tense moment by nervously peeling some food items using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new lively co-worker who happily suggests to eliminate the awful manager (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound noticeable represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the first episode of the comedy driven less by plot and more on what the under-30s may refer to as “mood”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, records then replays trivia competitions to impress his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Guiding the audience amidst this subtle warmth there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the use of a major Hollywood star clashes with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you're right. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue like “The issue with Leonard is the missing an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that initial doubts fade if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: that place is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its favourite duck.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward into space, sometimes downward at its feet, serenely certain that nothing is on Earth as uplifting as being alongside close companions.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, just a bit, and allow it entry.