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In a peaceful suburb of the Irish capital, a man stands in his driveway, wearing a sleeveless jumper and voicing his feelings. “I notice myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” states Leonard, gazing toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and currently I believe unless I take action, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest companion, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his bathrobe flapping gently. “Better than attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and fast pace of modern television landscape, the show steps in as a warm cover and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Like its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode comedy written by the writing duo, inspired by Rónán Hession’s subtle story – casts a critical eye at modern life; gazing critically above its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to loud sounds, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The series rather, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage to people satisfied to amble along away from attention. However. The character (a further distinctly original portrayal by the actor) is uneasy. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the doors and windows in my existence … a little.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, a writer for others, now realizes doubting the paths which led him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; creating a range of children’s encyclopedias for a man who signs off correspondence saying “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the actor) functioning as his trusted friend, mentor and co-conspirator in a weekly gaming session which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The source of the moniker seems forgotten in mystery. Perhaps the postal worker once ate a snack in record time, or responded to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent spring-loaded co-worker who cheerily offers to kill the awful manager (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what a modern audience might call “vibes”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who privately views, saves and reviews television game programs to amaze his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Shepherding the audience throughout this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “certainly the presence of such a famous actor contradicts the program's low-key style and starts off as just a diversion?” that's accurate. However, Roberts does a good job, and phrases for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that first reservations give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining currently. The show's core is in the right place: which is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, pointing out its preferred bird.” This is a show that ambles along in comfortable attire, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, calmly assured that there is nothing on Earth as heartening as being with dear pals.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and allow it entry.