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In a calm neighborhood of the Irish capital, an individual can be found outside his home, wearing a tank top and sharing his concerns. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” remarks the protagonist, gazing up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems unless I take action, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, considers the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his robe flapping gently. “Better than trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those weary by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of modern television landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

In line with its gentle leads, the series – a six-part program created by the writing duo, based on the author’s subtle story – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing skeptically over its spectacles toward anything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The series is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage to people satisfied to amble along away from attention. However. The character (one more uniquely quirky portrayal by the actor) is uneasy. He notices a creeping “desire to unlock the openings in my existence … a little.” The loss of his beloved mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels reconsidering the decisions that directed him to where he is (alone; with a protective mustache; working on multiple educational volumes for an employer who signs off messages saying “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard begins on a journey for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the actor) acting as his trusted friend, guide and partner in a weekly board games evening that serves both as debate (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The beginning of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. Perhaps he on one occasion consumed a sandwich unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by panic-peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent energetic colleague who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of the awful manager (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound audible is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy focused less on story and centered around what a modern audience may refer to as “mood”, viewers encounter the older generation (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Leading us throughout this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the famous actress. Indeed, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the presence of such a famous actor contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” you would be correct. However, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue such as “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that initial doubts give way if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining for now. The series' spirit is in the right place: that place is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its preferred bird.” The program that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up into space, occasionally down at its slippers, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as uplifting as spending time with dear pals.

Throw open the portals of your life, just a bit, and allow it entry.