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In a peaceful suburb of the city, a man can be found in his driveway, wearing a tank top and sharing his thoughts. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says the main character, staring up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his closest confidant, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his dressing gown moving gently. “Superior to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For those tired by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of modern television landscape, this series steps in as a foil blanket and warming mug of Ribena.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode program created by the writing duo, based on Rónán Hession’s subtle book – looks disapprovingly at modern life; gazing skeptically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything in the way of disturbances, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The program on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute of those satisfied to amble along away from attention. But. Leonard (one more sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from the star) is unsettled. He feels a creeping “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels questioning the choices which led him to his current situation (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing multiple educational volumes for a man who ends correspondence using the words “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the performer) acting as his close companion, mentor and ally in a recurring game night which acts as discussion (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The origin of the moniker is shrouded in mystery. Maybe he previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a new colleague (the actress), a recent spring-loaded colleague who happily suggests to get rid of the awful manager (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The swift movement you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere in the first episode of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what a modern audience could describe as “vibes”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the consistently great the actor), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, records then replays daytime quiz shows to impress his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Leading viewers amidst this subtle warmth is a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “certainly the presence of a big-name celebrity clashes with the program's low-key style and starts off as just an interruption?” you would be correct. Still, the actress performs admirably, and phrases for example “Leonard’s problem is the missing an expression of discovery” help ensure that initial doubts yield if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining for now. The show's core is well-intentioned: which is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, showing its favourite duck.” This is a show that ambles along in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up at the stars, occasionally down toward the ground, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as uplifting as passing time with dear pals.

Throw open the portals of your life, a little, and let it in.