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In a quiet area of Dublin, a man stands in his driveway, sporting a vest and sharing his feelings. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says the protagonist, looking up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and currently it seems unless I take action, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, ponders the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown moving in the breeze. “Superior to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For those weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of modern television terrain, this series steps in as a foil blanket with a hot drink of Ribena.

Similar to its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment show created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the novelist’s understated story – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; looking critically above its eyewear on everything that involves unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The series rather, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute of those content to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. Leonard (another distinctly original turn by the actor) feels restless. He senses an increasing “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The loss of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now finds himself doubting the decisions that directed him to his current situation (single; defensively moustached; creating several children’s encyclopedias for an employer who signs off messages saying “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the performer) serving as his confidante, mentor and ally in a weekly board games evening that serves both as debate (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname seems forgotten in history. Perhaps the postal worker once ate a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a vibrant character (the performer), a recent lively co-worker who cheerily offers to kill the awful manager (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement audible is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and more on what a modern audience could describe as “atmosphere”, we meet the older generation (the brilliant the performer), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, saves and reviews television game programs to dazzle his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Guiding us through all this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and truly is – the famous actress. Indeed, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you would be correct. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue like “The issue with Leonard is the missing an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. The series' spirit is in the right place: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward at its feet, serenely certain that no experience is in the world as uplifting as passing time with dear pals.

Throw open the portals within your world, just a bit, and allow it entry.