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In a calm area of Dublin, a person can be found in his driveway, sporting a sleeveless jumper and sharing his thoughts. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” states the main character, gazing into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems unless I take action, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, considers the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his bathrobe moving in the breeze. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers exhausted by the noise and fast pace of modern television landscape, the show steps in like a warm cover and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by Rónán Hession’s subtle story – takes a dim view toward today's world; looking skeptically above its spectacles toward anything in the way of loud sounds, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The program is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage for those content to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. The character (another uniquely quirky portrayal by the actor) is unsettled. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the entryways of my life … slightly.” The passing of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and this young man, a writer for others, now feels questioning the paths which led him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; creating multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who signs off correspondence with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard begins on a journey to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and ally in a recurring game night functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The origin of the nickname seems forgotten to the mists of time. Maybe the postal worker previously devoured a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening some food items using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts Shelley (the performer), a recent energetic colleague who happily suggests to eliminate his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The swift movement you can hear represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the initial show of the comedy focused less on story and centered around what a modern audience could describe as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter the older generation (the brilliant the actor), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to amaze his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Shepherding viewers amidst this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the use of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you would be correct. However, the actress performs admirably, and lines like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that first reservations fade if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, indicating the duck it loves.” It’s a series that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up into space, sometimes downward at its feet, calmly assured that nothing is in the world as cheering as passing time alongside close companions.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and let it in.