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In a peaceful area of the Irish capital, a man stands in his driveway, wearing a sleeveless jumper and sharing his feelings. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says the main character, staring up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like without a change, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his only confidant, ponders the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his robe swaying in the breeze. “Preferable to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone exhausted by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment show written by the writing duo, based on Rónán Hession’s understated story – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; peering critically over its eyewear toward anything that involves loud sounds, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. This show on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute of those content to pootle around below the parapet. And yet. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic turn from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He feels an increasing “need to open the entryways within my world … just a bit.” The passing of his mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, a ghost writer, now finds himself questioning the decisions that have brought him to this point (single; defensively moustached; working on a range of kids' reference books for an employer who signs off correspondence using the words “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard begins an exploration for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his close companion, life coach and partner in a recurring board games evening that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The source of this name seems forgotten in history. Maybe he once ate some food in record time, or answered to a tense moment by nervously peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a vibrant character (the performer), a fresh energetic co-worker who happily suggests to kill the awful manager (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In another part in the initial show of the comedy driven less by plot and more on what the under-30s might call “vibes”, we meet the older generation (the ever-wonderful the performer), a tired character who privately views, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to impress his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience amidst this minor-key niceness is a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “certainly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star contradicts the show's modest approach and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. Still, the actress performs admirably, and lines such as “Leonard's challenge is the missing a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that first reservations give way if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism currently. The show's core has good intentions: that place is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, showing its favourite duck.” This is a show that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, at times staring at the stars, at other times looking at its slippers, serenely certain that nothing is in life as uplifting as being with dear pals.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, a little, and let it in.