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In a quiet neighborhood of the Irish capital, an individual can be found outside his home, wearing a tank top and sharing his thoughts. “It seems like my voice is fading. More invisible,” remarks the main character, looking into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and now it seems without a change, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his only and only friend, reflects on the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his dressing gown swaying gently. “Superior to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For viewers weary by the noise and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a cozy wrap with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-episode comedy developed by its authors, based on the novelist’s subtle story – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; gazing critically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything in the way of loud sounds, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. This show rather, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage to people satisfied to amble along away from attention. But. He (one more uniquely quirky performance from the star) feels restless. He senses an increasing “need to open the entryways in my existence … just a bit.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug away from his feet and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels questioning the choices that have brought him to where he is (alone; sporting facial hair; writing several kids' reference books for an employer who signs off emails with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the performer) acting as his trusted friend, mentor and partner in a recurring board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The origin of this name appears lost in mystery. Maybe the postal worker on one occasion consumed a snack in record time, or answered to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels Shelley (the actress), a fresh energetic associate who happily suggests to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound audible represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

In another part in the first episode of the comedy driven less by plot and more by what a modern audience might call “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to impress his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Leading viewers through all this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – the famous actress. Yes, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “certainly the inclusion of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a diversion?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases for example “Leonard’s problem is his absence of an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that first reservations give way if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: the right place being “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating the duck it loves.” The program that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, at times staring at the stars, at other times looking at its feet, serenely certain that no experience is in the world as uplifting as spending time alongside close companions.

Unlock the entryways within your world, a little, and allow it entry.