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In a calm suburb of Dublin, a man is standing outside his home, wearing a vest and sharing his concerns. “I feel myself getting quieter. More invisible,” says the protagonist, gazing up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems if I don’t do something, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his only and only friend, reflects on these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his dressing gown moving in the breeze. “Better than attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers exhausted by the bluster and constant stimulation of today’s TV terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives as a warm cover with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

In line with its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment show developed by its authors, adapted from Rónán Hession’s understated book – takes a dim view at modern life; looking disapprovingly over its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything in the way of unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. This show on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration of those happy to wander out of the spotlight. However. The character (another uniquely quirky turn from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He notices an increasing “need to open the doors and windows in my existence … slightly.” The passing of his parent has whisked the rug from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now finds himself questioning the decisions that directed him to his current situation (single; with a protective mustache; writing a range of children’s encyclopedias for an employer who concludes emails using the words “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard starts an exploration to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and co-conspirator in a recurring game night functioning as both discussion (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of the nickname is shrouded to the mists of time. Maybe the postal worker on one occasion consumed some food unusually quickly, or reacted to a tense moment by panic-peeling some food items with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a vibrant character (the actress), a recent lively associate who happily suggests to kill the awful manager (the character) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of this program not heavily plotted and more on what the under-30s may refer to as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the brilliant the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to impress his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Shepherding us through all this subtle warmth there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and truly is – the famous actress. Truly, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” that's accurate. However, the actress performs admirably, and phrases for example “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings yield though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its preferred bird.” The program that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, at other times looking at its feet, quietly confident that there is nothing in life as heartening as passing time with dear pals.

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