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In a peaceful neighborhood of the Irish capital, an individual stands in his driveway, wearing a sleeveless jumper and expressing his concerns. “I notice myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” remarks the protagonist, gazing into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and now I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his closest confidant, ponders this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe flapping gently. “Superior to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers weary by the bluster and fast pace of modern television terrain, the show arrives like a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, the series – a half-dozen installment show written by the writing duo, based on the novelist’s understated book – casts a critical eye at modern life; peering critically over its spectacles toward anything in the way of unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – too much drive. The program rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage of those happy to pootle around below the parapet. And yet. The character (a further uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the doors and windows within my world … a little.” The recent death of his parent has pulled the carpet away from his feet and this young man, a writer for others, now realizes questioning the paths which led him to where he is (unattached; defensively moustached; creating multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who signs off correspondence using the words “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard launches himself on a quest to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Paul (the actor) serving as his confidante, guide and ally in a weekly game night that serves both as debate (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The origin of the nickname seems forgotten to the mists of time. It could be that he on one occasion consumed a sandwich unusually quickly, or reacted to a tense moment by panic-peeling some food items using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a new colleague (the actress), a fresh spring-loaded co-worker who cheerily offers to eliminate the awful manager (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of the comedy driven less by plot and more on what a modern audience might call “vibes”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the performer), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Shepherding us through all this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and actually is – the famous actress. Truly, the star. If you are thinking, “certainly the inclusion of such a famous actor contradicts the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and lines such as “Leonard's challenge is his absence of an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings give way if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: that place is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up at the stars, occasionally down at its feet, calmly assured that there is nothing in the world as uplifting as being with dear pals.

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