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In a peaceful area of Dublin, a man is standing outside his home, wearing a vest and voicing his thoughts. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems without a change, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his robe swaying with the wind. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers weary by the bluster and constant stimulation of today’s TV offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives as a warm cover with a hot drink of Ribena.

In line with its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-episode show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the novelist’s quiet 2019 novel – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing critically above its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The series on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those content to amble along away from attention. And yet. The character (another sublimely idiosyncratic performance by the actor) feels restless. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the openings within my world … a little.” The passing of his parent has yanked the floor away from his feet and this young man, a ghost writer, now realizes questioning the decisions that directed him to his current situation (alone; with a protective mustache; creating a range of kids' reference books for an employer who concludes correspondence saying “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard starts on a journey for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (the actor) functioning as his close companion, guide and partner in a weekly game night which acts as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the moniker is shrouded in history. Perhaps he previously devoured a sandwich very fast, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a vibrant character (the actress), a recent energetic associate who happily suggests to get rid of the awful manager (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy not heavily plotted and centered around what the under-30s might call “mood”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the performer), a tired character who covertly observes, saves and reviews television game programs to dazzle his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Leading us amidst this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and truly is – the famous actress. Indeed, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “certainly the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a distraction?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts does a good job, and lines for example “Leonard's challenge is the missing a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings fade if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining currently. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its favourite duck.” This is a show that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up toward the sky, sometimes downward toward the ground, quietly confident that no experience is on Earth as cheering as spending time in the company of good friends.

Throw open the portals of your life, just a bit, and welcome it inside.