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In a quiet neighborhood of Dublin, a man stands outside his home, dressed in a vest and sharing his thoughts. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” says the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, Leonard’s best companion, considers the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his dressing gown moving in the breeze. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For those exhausted by the chaos and fast pace of modern television terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a foil blanket with a hot drink of Ribena.

In line with its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-part comedy developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the author’s understated story – takes a dim view at modern life; peering disapprovingly above its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything in the way of unnecessary noise, quick actions or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. The program is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration of those satisfied to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. He (a further distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He senses an increasing “desire to unlock the openings of my life … slightly.” The passing of his mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the choices that directed him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; working on several educational volumes for an employer who signs off messages saying “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, guide and co-conspirator during their regular game night which acts as debate (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The source of the moniker appears lost in mystery. Perhaps the postal worker once ate some food very fast, or reacted to an awkward situation by hastily opening several snacks by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a new colleague (the performer), a new lively co-worker who cheerily offers to kill his terrible supervisor (the character) at a fire practice. The swift movement audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy focused less on story and centered around what the under-30s could describe as “vibes”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, saves and reviews trivia competitions to amaze his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Shepherding viewers through all this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Indeed, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “surely the use of such a famous actor is at odds with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you're right. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and lines such as “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” help ensure that first reservations yield though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining currently. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, pointing out the duck it loves.” The program that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, at times staring at the stars, occasionally down toward the ground, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as heartening as spending time with good friends.

Throw open the portals within your world, just a bit, and welcome it inside.