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In a peaceful neighborhood of Dublin, an individual can be found in his driveway, sporting a tank top and sharing his concerns. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” states the protagonist, looking up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and now I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, Leonard’s best companion, reflects on this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe moving gently. “Preferable to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of today’s TV terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a foil blanket and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode comedy created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the novelist’s quiet story – takes a dim view toward today's world; peering disapprovingly over its eyewear at anything related to disturbances, quick actions or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The program on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those content to pootle around below the parapet. But. The character (another uniquely quirky performance by the actor) feels restless. He senses a growing “desire to unlock the entryways in my existence … slightly.” The recent death of his mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and Leonard, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the paths that directed him to where he is (alone; with a protective mustache; writing several educational volumes for an employer who signs off correspondence with the phrase “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard starts an exploration for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the performer) serving as his trusted friend, guide and co-conspirator in a weekly game night which acts as symposium (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the nickname seems forgotten in history. It could be that Paul on one occasion consumed some food in record time, or answered to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling some food items by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) during the office fire drill. The swift movement audible is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the initial show of this program focused less on story and centered around what the under-30s might call “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who secretly watches, records then replays television game programs to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding viewers through all this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “certainly the presence of a major Hollywood star contradicts the program's low-key style and starts off as just a distraction?” you're right. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines like “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings give way though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its preferred bird.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that nothing is in the world as uplifting as passing time alongside close companions.

Throw open the portals within your world, a little, and welcome it inside.