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In a peaceful suburb of the Irish capital, an individual is standing outside his home, dressed in a tank top and voicing his concerns. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I believe without a change, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his closest and only friend, considers the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his dressing gown flapping gently. “Better than striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For anyone tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of modern television landscape, this series comes like a warm cover and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode comedy developed by the writing duo, adapted from the author’s subtle story – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; peering critically through its eyewear at anything that involves unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The program on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute for those content to amble along away from attention. And yet. Leonard (a further uniquely quirky turn by the actor) feels restless. He notices a growing “desire to unlock the openings in my existence … just a bit.” The passing of his parent has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, an anonymous author, now finds himself questioning the paths that directed him to his current situation (alone; sporting facial hair; working on a range of educational volumes for a boss who ends emails with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard starts an exploration for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his trusted friend, life coach and co-conspirator during their regular board games evening which acts as symposium (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The source of this name appears lost in mystery. It could be that he on one occasion consumed a snack unusually quickly, or answered to a tense moment by nervously peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels Shelley (the performer), a recent spring-loaded co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of the awful manager (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and more by what the under-30s could describe as “mood”, we meet Paul's father (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding the audience throughout this gentle kindness is a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity contradicts the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you would be correct. However, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue for example “Leonard’s problem is the missing an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The show's core is well-intentioned: the right place being “located on a seat alongside similar shows, showing the duck it loves.” The program that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, occasionally down at its feet, quietly confident that there is nothing in life as heartening as being with good friends.

Open the doors and windows within your world, just a bit, and allow it entry.