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In a quiet area of Dublin, a person stands on the pavement, dressed in a tank top and voicing his thoughts. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says the protagonist, staring up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and now I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, considers this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his dressing gown swaying gently. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those weary by the chaos and constant stimulation of modern television terrain, the show arrives as a foil blanket and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Like its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment program developed by the writing duo, based on the author’s subtle 2019 novel – takes a dim view at modern life; peering disapprovingly above its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything that involves loud sounds, quick actions or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The series is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration of those satisfied to pootle around away from attention. However. Leonard (another uniquely quirky performance from the star) feels restless. He feels a creeping “urge to throw open the openings of my life … a little.” The passing of his mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and Leonard, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the choices that directed him to his current situation (alone; sporting facial hair; creating a range of children’s encyclopedias for a boss who concludes correspondence saying “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard launches on a journey for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the actor) functioning as his trusted friend, mentor and partner in a recurring gaming session that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The source of this name seems forgotten in mystery. Maybe the postal worker on one occasion consumed some food very fast, or answered to an awkward situation by nervously peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a vibrant character (the actress), a fresh energetic co-worker who happily suggests to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The swift movement audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the initial show of this program focused less on story and centered around what younger viewers may refer to as “mood”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to dazzle his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Guiding us amidst this gentle kindness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “surely the inclusion of such a famous actor contradicts the program's low-key style and initially serves only as an interruption?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue such as “Leonard's challenge is the missing an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations give way if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The show's core has good intentions: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that moves gently in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up toward the sky, sometimes downward at its slippers, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as uplifting as passing time with dear pals.

Throw open the portals of your life, slightly, and welcome it inside.