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In a calm area of Dublin, a person can be found outside his home, wearing a vest and voicing his concerns. “I notice myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” remarks Leonard, looking toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and now I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his closest and only friend, reflects on the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his dressing gown swaying gently. “Better than trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For anyone tired by the bluster and fast pace of today’s TV landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in as a cozy wrap with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Like its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part show created by the writing duo, adapted from the novelist’s quiet 2019 novel – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing disapprovingly through its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to unnecessary noise, quick actions or – goodness forbid – too much drive. This show is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute of those content to pootle around out of the spotlight. And yet. He (a further distinctly original turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the openings within my world … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has whisked the rug out from under him and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the paths that have brought him to where he is (single; sporting facial hair; creating several children’s encyclopedias for a boss who ends correspondence with the phrase “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard starts an exploration for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the actor) functioning as his confidante, life coach and ally in a recurring game night which acts as discussion (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The beginning of the moniker seems forgotten in history. Maybe Paul on one occasion consumed a sandwich very fast, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling some food items with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a new colleague (the performer), a fresh lively co-worker who cheerily offers to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement audible represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the first episode of the comedy driven less by plot and more on what a modern audience could describe as “atmosphere”, we meet the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a worn-out individual who privately views, saves and reviews television game programs to amaze his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Leading the audience amidst this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the star. Should you wonder, “certainly the presence of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a diversion?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and lines like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: the right place being “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its preferred bird.” It’s a series that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, calmly assured that there is nothing in the world as uplifting as spending time with good friends.

Open the doors and windows within your world, just a bit, and welcome it inside.