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In a calm suburb of the Irish capital, an individual stands on the pavement, dressed in a vest and voicing his thoughts. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says Leonard, staring up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and at this point I feel like without a change, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, considers the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his robe moving in the breeze. “Better than trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those exhausted by the noise and fast pace of today’s TV offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a foil blanket with a hot drink of Ribena.

In line with its gentle leads, the series – a half-dozen installment program written by the writing duo, based on the novelist’s understated story – takes a dim view at modern life; gazing skeptically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything related to loud sounds, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute for those happy to amble along below the parapet. But. He (one more sublimely idiosyncratic performance from the star) is uneasy. He senses a creeping “need to open the entryways of my life … slightly.” The recent death of his mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and this young man, an anonymous author, now feels reconsidering the paths that directed him to where he is (alone; with a protective mustache; writing multiple educational volumes for a boss who ends messages saying “see you later”).

Thus Leonard launches himself on a quest to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) acting as his close companion, life coach and partner during their regular game night functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of this name is shrouded in history. Maybe Paul previously devoured a snack very fast, or answered to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a new colleague (the performer), a fresh energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound audible represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and centered around what the under-30s might call “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, records then replays television game programs to impress his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Shepherding viewers through all this subtle warmth there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “surely the inclusion of a big-name celebrity clashes with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you would be correct. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases such as “The issue with Leonard is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that early misgivings yield if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: the right place being “located on a seat alongside similar shows, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up into space, occasionally down at its slippers, quietly confident that nothing is in the world as uplifting as being alongside good friends.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, a little, and allow it entry.