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In a quiet neighborhood of Dublin, a man stands on the pavement, sporting a sleeveless jumper and sharing his concerns. “I notice my voice is fading. More invisible,” remarks Leonard, gazing up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems unless I take action, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, reflects on the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his robe swaying in the breeze. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers exhausted by the noise and fast pace of today’s TV offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives similar to a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-part show written by the writing duo, inspired by the author’s understated book – takes a dim view at modern life; peering disapprovingly through its eyewear toward anything related to unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The program rather, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration of those happy to wander away from attention. However. Leonard (another uniquely quirky turn from the star) is uneasy. He notices a creeping “urge to throw open the entryways of my life … a little.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, a ghost writer, now finds himself reconsidering the choices which led him to where he is (single; sporting facial hair; writing multiple educational volumes for a man who ends messages saying “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard starts an exploration for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) acting as his close companion, mentor and ally in a recurring board games evening functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The origin of this name is shrouded in history. It could be that he once ate some food very fast, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening several snacks by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a vibrant character (the performer), a new spring-loaded colleague who happily suggests to eliminate the awful manager (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of the comedy not heavily plotted and more by what younger viewers could describe as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the brilliant the actor), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Shepherding viewers amidst this gentle kindness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and truly is – the famous actress. Indeed, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the presence of a big-name celebrity clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a diversion?” you would be correct. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines like “Leonard’s problem is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The show's core has good intentions: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, showing its favourite duck.” The program that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, at times staring at the stars, occasionally down at its feet, serenely certain that nothing is in life as cheering as spending time with close companions.

Open the doors and windows of your life, just a bit, and welcome it inside.