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In a peaceful suburb of the Irish capital, a person is standing on the pavement, sporting a vest and voicing his thoughts. “It seems like myself getting quieter. More invisible,” says Leonard, looking into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems without a change, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his only and only friend, ponders this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his bathrobe flapping in the breeze. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and fast pace of today’s TV terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a warm cover with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Like its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-part show written by the writing duo, based on the novelist’s subtle book – casts a critical eye at modern life; looking critically over its spectacles at anything in the way of loud sounds, quick actions or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The series rather, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute to people content to wander away from attention. However. He (one more uniquely quirky performance from the star) is uneasy. He senses a growing “desire to unlock the entryways of my life … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now feels questioning the choices which led him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; working on multiple kids' reference books for an employer who concludes emails saying “see you later”).

Thus Leonard starts himself on a quest to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the performer) serving as his confidante, mentor and ally in a recurring gaming session which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The origin of the moniker appears lost in mystery. Maybe the postal worker previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or responded to an awkward situation by panic-peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts a new colleague (the performer), a new spring-loaded associate who lightheartedly proposes to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of the comedy driven less by plot and more on what younger viewers could describe as “vibes”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, saves and reviews television game programs to impress his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding us amidst this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and truly is – the famous actress. Truly, the star. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity clashes with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a distraction?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue for example “Leonard’s problem is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: the right place being “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its favourite duck.” This is a show that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, occasionally down at its slippers, calmly assured that nothing is on Earth as cheering as being with good friends.

Throw open the portals of your life, slightly, and allow it entry.