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In a calm neighborhood of the city, an individual can be found on the pavement, sporting a tank top and voicing his feelings. “I notice myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” says Leonard, looking toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and now I believe unless I take action, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his closest companion, ponders these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown flapping in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For those exhausted by the noise and constant stimulation of modern television terrain, this series steps in similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of a sweet cordial.

In line with its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment comedy developed by the writing duo, based on Rónán Hession’s subtle story – casts a critical eye toward today's world; peering skeptically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything in the way of unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration for those happy to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. The character (one more distinctly original portrayal from the star) is unsettled. He feels a growing “urge to throw open the doors and windows in my existence … slightly.” The loss of his beloved mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now feels questioning the choices which led him to his current situation (single; with a protective mustache; working on a range of educational volumes for a boss who signs off correspondence saying “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard starts himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his confidante, guide and partner in a recurring gaming session functioning as both debate (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The source of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe Paul previously devoured a snack very fast, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling some food items by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels Shelley (the actress), a fresh spring-loaded associate who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of the awful manager (the character) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound audible represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the first episode of this program focused less on story and more on what the under-30s might call “mood”, viewers encounter the older generation (the brilliant the performer), a tired character who privately views, tapes and rewatches television game programs to impress his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding us throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the star. Should you wonder, “surely the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” you're right. However, the actress performs admirably, and lines such as “Leonard’s problem is his absence of an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts yield if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The show's core is well-intentioned: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring toward the sky, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that there is nothing in life as cheering as being alongside dear pals.

Unlock the entryways within your world, slightly, and welcome it inside.