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In a calm suburb of Dublin, a person is standing in his driveway, sporting a sleeveless jumper and voicing his concerns. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says the main character, staring up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems without a change, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his closest and only friend, considers the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his bathrobe moving gently. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For those tired by the noise and fast pace of today’s TV landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a cozy wrap and warming mug of Ribena.

In line with its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-episode comedy created by its authors, adapted from the author’s quiet story – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; gazing skeptically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to loud sounds, quick actions or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The series rather, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute for those happy to wander away from attention. But. Leonard (one more distinctly original performance from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He senses a growing “desire to unlock the entryways in my existence … slightly.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and this young man, a ghost writer, now feels reconsidering the decisions that have brought him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; working on a range of kids' reference books for an employer who concludes correspondence with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard launches himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his close companion, mentor and ally in a weekly board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of this name is shrouded in history. Perhaps he previously devoured a snack in record time, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling some food items using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a vibrant character (the actress), a recent energetic colleague who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise audible represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the initial show of the comedy focused less on story and centered around what younger viewers may refer to as “vibes”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, saves and reviews television game programs to impress his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding the audience throughout this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the star. If you are thinking, “surely the inclusion of a major Hollywood star clashes with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a diversion?” you're right. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and lines such as “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that first reservations fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, showing its preferred bird.” This is a show that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, sometimes downward at its feet, serenely certain that nothing is in the world as cheering as passing time in the company of good friends.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, a little, and let it in.