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In a peaceful neighborhood of Dublin, an individual can be found outside his home, sporting a vest and sharing his thoughts. “I feel my voice is fading. More invisible,” says Leonard, looking into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and now it seems without a change, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, ponders this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his dressing gown moving in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone exhausted by the bluster and fast pace of modern television offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a half-dozen installment comedy created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on Rónán Hession’s subtle book – takes a dim view at modern life; looking skeptically above its eyewear on everything in the way of loud sounds, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The program rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage to people satisfied to pootle around away from attention. But. The character (a further uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He feels an increasing “need to open the entryways of my life … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and Leonard, an anonymous author, now finds himself reconsidering the choices that directed him to where he is (unattached; defensively moustached; working on multiple educational volumes for a man who concludes correspondence using the words “see you later”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his close companion, life coach and ally during their regular gaming session that serves both as symposium (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The origin of this name is shrouded to the mists of time. Perhaps he previously devoured a snack in record time, or reacted to an awkward situation by panic-peeling some food items using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (the actress), a recent lively co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The swift movement you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the initial show of a series focused less on story and centered around what younger viewers could describe as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Guiding us through all this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Yes, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “surely the presence of a big-name celebrity clashes with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue for example “Leonard's challenge is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts fade though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: the right place being “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, showing the duck it loves.” The program that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward at its feet, calmly assured that no experience is in life as cheering as passing time with dear pals.

Unlock the entryways within your world, slightly, and welcome it inside.