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In a peaceful area of Dublin, a man stands on the pavement, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and expressing his feelings. “I feel myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” says the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and now it seems if I don’t do something, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his closest companion, considers these words. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his robe swaying with the wind. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For those weary by the noise and rat-tat-tat of modern television landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

In line with its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment program written by its authors, inspired by the novelist’s understated story – takes a dim view on contemporary society; gazing critically above its eyewear at anything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute to people content to amble along below the parapet. And yet. The character (a further distinctly original turn from the star) is uneasy. He notices a growing “need to open the entryways within my world … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and Leonard, a ghost writer, now realizes doubting the decisions which led him to his current situation (single; with a protective mustache; creating several kids' reference books for an employer who ends emails using the words “see you later”).

Thus Leonard starts on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his confidante, life coach and co-conspirator in a weekly gaming session which acts as discussion (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The origin of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. Perhaps he on one occasion consumed a snack in record time, or responded to a tense moment by nervously peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a vibrant character (the performer), a new spring-loaded colleague who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate the awful manager (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise audible is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and more on what a modern audience may refer to as “mood”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great the performer), a tired character who covertly observes, saves and reviews television game programs to amaze his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Leading viewers throughout this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Indeed, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the use of such a famous actor is at odds with the program's low-key style and starts off as just an interruption?” you're right. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is the missing a look of sudden insight” help ensure that early misgivings yield though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: which is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, showing its preferred bird.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, calmly assured that there is nothing on Earth as cheering as passing time in the company of good friends.

Open the doors and windows within your world, a little, and allow it entry.