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In a quiet suburb of Dublin, an individual stands in his driveway, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and sharing his feelings. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” states Leonard, gazing toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and currently it seems unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his closest companion, considers these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his bathrobe swaying in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone exhausted by the bluster and constant stimulation of modern television landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in similar to a foil blanket with a hot drink of Ribena.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part program developed by the writing duo, adapted from Rónán Hession’s subtle 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; gazing critically over its eyewear on everything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. The series rather, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute for those content to wander below the parapet. And yet. The character (another distinctly original performance from the star) feels restless. He feels a growing “urge to throw open the entryways within my world … a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and this young man, a writer for others, now feels reconsidering the paths that have brought him to this point (alone; sporting facial hair; writing multiple educational volumes for an employer who concludes correspondence with the phrase “see you later”).

Thus Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, life coach and ally in a weekly game night that serves both as discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the moniker is shrouded in mystery. Maybe Paul previously devoured some food very fast, or responded to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes Shelley (the actress), a recent spring-loaded colleague who cheerily offers to eliminate his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of the comedy not heavily plotted and more by what the under-30s could describe as “mood”, we meet Paul's father (the consistently great the actor), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, saves and reviews television game programs to impress his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Shepherding us amidst this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the star. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the presence of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the program's low-key style and starts off as just an interruption?” you're right. Still, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue for example “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks an expression of discovery” help ensure that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism at this time. The series' spirit has good intentions: the right place being “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its preferred bird.” The program that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, serenely certain that no experience is in life as uplifting as passing time alongside good friends.

Unlock the entryways within your world, just a bit, and allow it entry.