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In a calm neighborhood of Dublin, a person stands in his driveway, wearing a sleeveless jumper and sharing his feelings. “It seems like myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” remarks the protagonist, looking up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems without a change, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his closest companion, considers this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his robe moving with the wind. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For anyone tired by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of modern television landscape, the show comes as a foil blanket and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part comedy developed by the writing duo, adapted from the novelist’s subtle 2019 novel – takes a dim view on contemporary society; peering skeptically through its eyewear toward anything that involves disturbances, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. This show on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage for those happy to pootle around below the parapet. However. The character (another uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He feels a creeping “desire to unlock the entryways within my world … slightly.” The passing of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels questioning the paths that have brought him to this point (single; defensively moustached; working on multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who signs off correspondence with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard begins himself on a quest to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) serving as his confidante, guide and partner in a weekly game night which acts as debate (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the moniker seems forgotten in history. It could be that Paul previously devoured some food unusually quickly, or answered to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes Shelley (the performer), a new energetic associate who cheerily offers to eliminate the awful manager (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the first episode of a series focused less on story and more by what a modern audience could describe as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter the older generation (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who privately views, records then replays trivia competitions to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding us amidst this subtle warmth is a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the star. If you are thinking, “surely the use of a big-name celebrity clashes with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you would be correct. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is the missing a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that initial doubts yield though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: which is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its favourite duck.” The program that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, sometimes downward at its slippers, quietly confident that nothing is in life as heartening as passing time in the company of good friends.

Unlock the entryways of your life, just a bit, and let it in.