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In a quiet area of the Irish capital, a person stands on the pavement, wearing a vest and expressing his thoughts. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says Leonard, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and currently I feel like unless I take action, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his only companion, considers these words. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his robe swaying with the wind. “Preferable to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For those tired by the noise and constant stimulation of today’s TV offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes like a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part program created by its authors, based on the author’s subtle 2019 novel – takes a dim view toward today's world; peering skeptically through its spectacles at anything that involves loud sounds, quick actions or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The program rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage for those happy to pootle around away from attention. And yet. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal by the actor) is uneasy. He senses a creeping “urge to throw open the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The passing of his parent has pulled the carpet away from his feet and this young man, a ghost writer, now finds himself questioning the paths which led him to where he is (unattached; with a protective mustache; creating several children’s encyclopedias for a boss who ends emails saying “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard launches himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (the performer) serving as his confidante, life coach and partner in a weekly gaming session which acts as debate (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The origin of this name appears lost to the mists of time. Perhaps Paul once ate a snack unusually quickly, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new spring-loaded colleague who lightheartedly proposes to kill his terrible supervisor (the character) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound audible is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part in the initial show of this program driven less by plot and more by what younger viewers may refer to as “vibes”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to impress his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Leading us throughout this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a diversion?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and phrases like “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that initial doubts give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism at this time. The show's core has good intentions: that place is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its favourite duck.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, at times staring into space, at other times looking toward the ground, serenely certain that there is nothing in life as cheering as spending time alongside good friends.

Throw open the portals within your world, just a bit, and allow it entry.