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In a quiet area of the Irish capital, a person stands outside his home, wearing a sleeveless jumper and expressing his feelings. “It seems like myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” states Leonard, staring toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and at this point it seems unless I take action, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his closest confidant, considers these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For those weary by the bluster and fast pace of today’s TV terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Like its quiet characters, this comedy – a half-dozen installment comedy written by its authors, inspired by Rónán Hession’s understated story – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; looking critically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything in the way of unnecessary noise, quick actions or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. This show rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage of those content to wander away from attention. And yet. Leonard (another distinctly original turn by the actor) is unsettled. He feels an increasing “need to open the doors and windows in my existence … slightly.” The passing of his parent has whisked the rug from under his slippers and this young man, an anonymous author, now finds himself reconsidering the choices which led him to his current situation (alone; sporting facial hair; writing a range of educational volumes for a boss who signs off emails saying “see you later”).

Thus Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (the actor) functioning as his confidante, mentor and co-conspirator in a weekly board games evening that serves both as discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The origin of this name is shrouded in mystery. Perhaps Paul once ate some food very fast, or responded to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new spring-loaded associate who happily suggests to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement you can hear represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In another part during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and more by what a modern audience may refer to as “atmosphere”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant the performer), a tired character who privately views, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to impress his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Shepherding the audience through all this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the star. Should you wonder, “certainly the use of such a famous actor contradicts the show's modest approach and starts off as just an interruption?” you're right. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases like “Leonard’s problem is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts yield though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: which is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its preferred bird.” The program that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward into space, at other times looking at its feet, calmly assured that there is nothing on Earth as uplifting as spending time in the company of dear pals.

Throw open the portals within your world, a little, and let it in.