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In a peaceful area of Dublin, a man can be found on the pavement, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and expressing his concerns. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says the main character, looking into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and currently I believe if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Superior to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone exhausted by the chaos and constant stimulation of today’s TV landscape, this series steps in similar to a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

In line with its gentle leads, this comedy – a six-part show created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on Rónán Hession’s subtle book – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; gazing critically above its eyewear at anything that involves loud sounds, quick actions or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The program on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute of those happy to amble along below the parapet. However. He (a further uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a creeping “urge to throw open the openings of my life … slightly.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug away from his feet and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the decisions that directed him to this point (single; defensively moustached; creating a range of kids' reference books for a man who concludes correspondence using the words “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard starts an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the performer) serving as his trusted friend, life coach and partner in a recurring board games evening functioning as both debate (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. It could be that the postal worker once ate some food very fast, or answered to a tense moment by panic-peeling several snacks by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a new colleague (the actress), a new lively co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the character) during the office fire drill. The swift movement you can hear represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

In other scenes in the initial show of this program driven less by plot and more on what a modern audience could describe as “vibes”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who covertly observes, saves and reviews television game programs to impress his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Shepherding us throughout this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “surely the presence of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a diversion?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts does a good job, and lines for example “Leonard’s problem is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts fade though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: the right place being “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, showing the duck it loves.” This is a show that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward into space, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that nothing is in life as cheering as passing time in the company of dear pals.

Unlock the entryways within your world, just a bit, and let it in.