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In a quiet area of Dublin, a man can be found in his driveway, sporting a vest and expressing his concerns. “It seems like my voice is fading. Harder to see,” remarks the main character, gazing toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and currently I feel like without a change, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his closest and only friend, considers this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe moving gently. “Better than trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For those weary by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-part show written by its authors, based on the author’s quiet book – takes a dim view at modern life; gazing disapprovingly through its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute to people satisfied to amble along out of the spotlight. And yet. Leonard (another sublimely idiosyncratic performance by the actor) is uneasy. He feels a creeping “desire to unlock the openings in my existence … just a bit.” The loss of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the decisions which led him to where he is (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing a range of kids' reference books for a boss who concludes messages saying “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard begins an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the actor) functioning as his trusted friend, mentor and partner in a recurring gaming session that serves both as symposium (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of this name appears lost in mystery. Perhaps the postal worker once ate a snack very fast, or reacted to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels Shelley (the actress), a recent spring-loaded colleague who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement you can hear represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “atmosphere”, we meet the older generation (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews television game programs to amaze his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Shepherding us throughout this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, the star. Should you wonder, “surely the inclusion of a major Hollywood star contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just an interruption?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and lines such as “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism for now. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: that place is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, showing the duck it loves.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, at other times looking at its feet, serenely certain that no experience is on Earth as cheering as being alongside dear pals.

Unlock the entryways within your world, slightly, and let it in.