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In a calm area of Dublin, a man stands outside his home, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and expressing his thoughts. “It seems like my voice is fading. Harder to see,” remarks the protagonist, staring up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and now I believe if I don’t do something, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his only and only friend, ponders this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his dressing gown moving with the wind. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV offerings, the show arrives similar to a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment program created by the writing duo, adapted from the novelist’s quiet book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking disapprovingly above its eyewear at anything related to loud sounds, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series rather, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage for those content to pootle around below the parapet. However. He (a further uniquely quirky turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He feels an increasing “desire to unlock the openings within my world … just a bit.” The recent death of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the paths that directed him to this point (single; with a protective mustache; writing multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who ends messages using the words “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the performer) acting as his confidante, mentor and ally in a weekly board games evening which acts as discussion (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The source of this name appears lost to the mists of time. It could be that he once ate a snack very fast, or answered to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh spring-loaded colleague who happily suggests to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the initial show of a series not heavily plotted and more on what the under-30s could describe as “mood”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Leading the audience throughout this gentle kindness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and truly is – the famous actress. Indeed, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “certainly the presence of a big-name celebrity contradicts the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you're right. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases such as “Leonard's challenge is the missing a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts yield if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: which is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that moves gently in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward into space, occasionally down at its feet, quietly confident that there is nothing in the world as cheering as passing time alongside dear pals.

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