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In a quiet neighborhood of the city, a man can be found in his driveway, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and expressing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. Harder to see,” states the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and at this point I feel like unless I take action, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his closest and only friend, reflects on these words. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his robe swaying in the breeze. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and constant stimulation of modern television landscape, this series steps in as a foil blanket with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part show written by the writing duo, inspired by Rónán Hession’s quiet book – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; peering critically through its spectacles toward anything related to loud sounds, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage to people happy to amble along out of the spotlight. And yet. The character (another sublimely idiosyncratic turn by the actor) is uneasy. He notices a growing “need to open the openings of my life … slightly.” The loss of his mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels reconsidering the decisions that directed him to where he is (single; sporting facial hair; writing a range of children’s encyclopedias for a boss who ends messages saying “see you later”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the actor) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and co-conspirator in a recurring gaming session functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of the moniker seems forgotten in history. It could be that Paul previously devoured some food in record time, or answered to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a new colleague (the performer), a recent spring-loaded colleague who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the character) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise you can hear represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the initial show of a series focused less on story and centered around what the under-30s may refer to as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Shepherding the audience through all this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Indeed, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “certainly the use of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a diversion?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases for example “The issue with Leonard is his absence of an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts give way if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. The series' spirit has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its favourite duck.” This is a show that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up into space, occasionally down toward the ground, quietly confident that nothing is on Earth as cheering as passing time alongside close companions.

Open the doors and windows of your life, a little, and welcome it inside.