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In a peaceful suburb of Dublin, an individual is standing on the pavement, wearing a tank top and expressing his thoughts. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” states the protagonist, staring into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and currently it seems unless I take action, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his only companion, considers this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his dressing gown moving with the wind. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For those tired by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of modern television terrain, the show steps in like a warm cover and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its gentle leads, the series – a half-dozen installment show developed by the writing duo, inspired by the author’s subtle story – takes a dim view on contemporary society; peering critically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything in the way of unnecessary noise, quick actions or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The program on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage to people happy to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. Leonard (another sublimely idiosyncratic turn from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the entryways in my existence … just a bit.” The passing of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and Leonard, a writer for others, now realizes reconsidering the paths that directed him to this point (single; with a protective mustache; working on a range of kids' reference books for a man who ends emails with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard starts an exploration to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the actor) acting as his trusted friend, mentor and partner in a recurring game night which acts as discussion (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname seems forgotten in mystery. It could be that he on one occasion consumed a sandwich very fast, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening some food items with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels Shelley (the performer), a fresh energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) at a fire practice. The rushing noise noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the first episode of a series focused less on story and more on what the under-30s might call “mood”, we meet the older generation (the brilliant the performer), a tired character who secretly watches, records then replays television game programs to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding viewers through all this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “certainly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you're right. Still, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue like “Leonard's challenge is his absence of an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its preferred bird.” It’s a series that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up at the stars, occasionally down at its slippers, serenely certain that there is nothing in life as heartening as being alongside good friends.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.