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In a quiet area of Dublin, a person can be found on the pavement, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and voicing his feelings. “I feel myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” says Leonard, looking up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and currently it seems without a change, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, considers these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his dressing gown moving gently. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For those tired by the bluster and fast pace of today’s TV offerings, the show steps in as a cozy wrap and warming mug of Ribena.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part show developed by the writing duo, based on the novelist’s subtle book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking critically above its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything related to unnecessary noise, quick actions or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The series on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration to people satisfied to amble along below the parapet. But. The character (another distinctly original performance by the actor) is unsettled. He notices an increasing “desire to unlock the doors and windows in my existence … just a bit.” The loss of his beloved mother has whisked the rug out from under him and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now finds himself questioning the decisions that directed him to this point (single; with a protective mustache; writing several children’s encyclopedias for a man who ends messages with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard launches himself on a quest to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his close companion, life coach and ally during their regular gaming session which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The source of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. Perhaps the postal worker previously devoured some food unusually quickly, or answered to an awkward situation by nervously peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new spring-loaded associate who happily suggests to eliminate the awful manager (the actor) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the first episode of this program driven less by plot and more by what younger viewers might call “mood”, we are introduced to the older generation (the ever-wonderful the performer), a worn-out individual who privately views, tapes and rewatches television game programs to impress his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding viewers throughout this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Yes, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “certainly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity clashes with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” you're right. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines like “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that initial doubts fade if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The show's core is in the right place: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out the duck it loves.” The program that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, occasionally down at its feet, calmly assured that there is nothing on Earth as cheering as being alongside good friends.

Unlock the entryways of your life, just a bit, and allow it entry.