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In a quiet area of Dublin, a person is standing on the pavement, dressed in a tank top and voicing his thoughts. “I notice my voice is fading. Harder to see,” remarks the protagonist, gazing up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and now I feel like if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his closest confidant, ponders the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his bathrobe swaying gently. “Preferable to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone exhausted by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives as a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its gentle leads, this comedy – a half-dozen installment show written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the author’s understated 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; looking disapprovingly over its spectacles at anything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The program rather, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute of those content to pootle around below the parapet. However. The character (a further uniquely quirky portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He senses a growing “urge to throw open the entryways of my life … slightly.” The recent death of his mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and this young man, an anonymous author, now realizes doubting the decisions that directed him to where he is (single; defensively moustached; writing a range of children’s encyclopedias for an employer who signs off emails with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard begins himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the performer) functioning as his close companion, life coach and ally in a weekly game night that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated 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 beginning of this name is shrouded in history. Maybe Paul once ate a sandwich in record time, or answered to an awkward situation by panic-peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts Shelley (the actress), a fresh lively co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the character) during the office fire drill. The swift movement noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part during the opening installment of the comedy not heavily plotted and more on what a modern audience could describe as “atmosphere”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to impress his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Leading us amidst this gentle kindness is a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Yes, the star. In case you're considering, “surely the inclusion of a big-name celebrity clashes with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you're right. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue like “The issue with Leonard is the missing a look of sudden insight” help ensure that initial doubts yield though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism for now. The show's core is in the right place: which is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating the duck it loves.” The program that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, quietly confident that there is nothing in life as cheering as passing time with dear pals.

Unlock the entryways of your life, just a bit, and welcome it inside.