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In a quiet suburb of the Irish capital, an individual is standing on the pavement, wearing a tank top and voicing his concerns. “It seems like my voice is fading. Harder to see,” says the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest companion, reflects on the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his bathrobe swaying in the breeze. “Superior to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those tired by the noise and constant stimulation of modern television landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in as a warm cover and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Like its gentle leads, this comedy – a six-part program developed by its authors, inspired by the novelist’s subtle book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; peering disapprovingly above its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. This show on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people happy to amble along below the parapet. And yet. The character (one more uniquely quirky turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He feels a growing “urge to throw open the entryways within my world … a little.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and this young man, a ghost writer, now finds himself reconsidering the paths that directed him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; writing multiple kids' reference books for a boss who signs off messages with the phrase “see you later”).

And so Leonard begins an exploration for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the actor) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and partner during their regular gaming session which acts as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The source of the moniker is shrouded in mystery. Maybe the postal worker once ate a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by hastily opening several snacks with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent energetic colleague who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) at a fire practice. The swift movement audible is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part during the opening installment of the comedy driven less by plot and more by what a modern audience may refer to as “vibes”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the brilliant the actor), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Leading us through all this gentle kindness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Indeed, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a diversion?” you're right. Still, the actress performs admirably, and lines like “Leonard’s problem is the missing a look of sudden insight” help ensure that first reservations give way though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit has good intentions: the right place being “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, indicating its preferred bird.” The program that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward at its slippers, calmly assured that nothing is in the world as heartening as spending time in the company of close companions.

Open the doors and windows within your world, slightly, and allow it entry.