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In a calm suburb of the Irish capital, a man stands in his driveway, dressed in a vest and sharing his concerns. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says the protagonist, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and now it seems unless I take action, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his closest and only friend, considers the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown flapping in the breeze. “Better than trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone exhausted by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of modern television offerings, the show arrives similar to a foil blanket with a hot drink of Ribena.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment comedy developed by its authors, based on Rónán Hession’s subtle book – casts a critical eye toward today's world; looking disapprovingly over its spectacles on everything related to loud sounds, quick actions or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The series is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage for those happy to amble along below the parapet. However. He (one more distinctly original performance by the actor) is unsettled. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the openings of my life … slightly.” The passing of his beloved mother has whisked the rug out from under him and this young man, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the choices that have brought him to where he is (unattached; with a protective mustache; working on a range of educational volumes for an employer who concludes messages saying “see you later”).

And so Leonard starts an exploration for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the performer) serving as his confidante, life coach and partner in a weekly board games evening functioning as both discussion (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The beginning of the moniker seems forgotten in mystery. Maybe he previously devoured a sandwich very fast, or responded to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts Shelley (the performer), a new spring-loaded colleague who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate the awful manager (the character) at a fire practice. The swift movement noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere in the initial show of this program focused less on story and more by what younger viewers might call “mood”, viewers encounter the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, records then replays trivia competitions to impress his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Shepherding the audience amidst this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the star. If you are thinking, “surely the use of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a diversion?” you're right. However, the actress performs admirably, and lines like “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that initial doubts fade if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: which is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its favourite duck.” It’s a series that moves gently in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward into space, at other times looking at its feet, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as cheering as passing time in the company of dear pals.

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