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In a calm neighborhood of Dublin, a man can be found in his driveway, sporting a vest and voicing his feelings. “I notice my voice is fading. More invisible,” states Leonard, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his closest and only friend, ponders the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Superior to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For those exhausted by the noise and constant stimulation of today’s TV terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part program created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the author’s quiet book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing critically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage of those satisfied to wander away from attention. But. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic performance by the actor) feels restless. He notices a creeping “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The recent death of his parent has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and this young man, a ghost writer, now realizes questioning the paths that have brought him to his current situation (alone; defensively moustached; writing multiple children’s encyclopedias for a boss who concludes messages with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Paul (the actor) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and partner in a recurring gaming session functioning as both symposium (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The origin of the moniker seems forgotten in mystery. Maybe he on one occasion consumed a snack unusually quickly, or answered to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling some food items with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels Shelley (the actress), a new energetic associate who cheerily offers to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the first episode of this program not heavily plotted and more on what younger viewers could describe as “vibes”, we meet Paul's father (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to dazzle his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Leading us through all this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the star. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the inclusion of such a famous actor contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a diversion?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases for example “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that first reservations fade though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism at this time. The show's core is in the right place: the right place being “located on a seat alongside similar shows, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up toward the sky, sometimes downward toward the ground, quietly confident that no experience is in life as heartening as spending time in the company of close companions.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and allow it entry.