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In a peaceful suburb of Dublin, a person is standing in his driveway, wearing a vest and voicing his concerns. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” remarks the main character, staring up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best companion, ponders these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown flapping with the wind. “Superior to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone exhausted by the chaos and constant stimulation of modern television landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives as a cozy wrap and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Like its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part comedy written by its authors, inspired by Rónán Hession’s subtle 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; peering skeptically above its spectacles toward anything in the way of unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The series is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage to people happy to amble along out of the spotlight. However. He (one more uniquely quirky performance by the actor) is uneasy. He senses an increasing “urge to throw open the entryways in my existence … a little.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now realizes reconsidering the choices that have brought him to this point (single; with a protective mustache; writing a range of children’s encyclopedias for an employer who signs off messages with the phrase “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the actor) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and partner during their regular board games evening that serves both as debate (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The source of this name is shrouded to the mists of time. Maybe he previously devoured some food unusually quickly, or responded to an awkward situation by hastily opening some food items by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts Shelley (the performer), a fresh lively colleague who happily suggests to get rid of the awful manager (the actor) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the first episode of this program driven less by plot and centered around what the under-30s might call “mood”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the consistently great the actor), a tired character who secretly watches, records then replays trivia competitions to dazzle his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Guiding the audience amidst this gentle kindness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. Should you wonder, “surely the use of such a famous actor contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as an interruption?” that's accurate. However, the actress performs admirably, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: the right place being “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its preferred bird.” The program that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring at the stars, occasionally down at its slippers, quietly confident that there is nothing on Earth as cheering as passing time with good friends.

Throw open the portals in your existence, just a bit, and welcome it inside.