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In a calm suburb of the Irish capital, a person can be found outside his home, wearing a vest and sharing his feelings. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” remarks the protagonist, looking toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and currently I feel like unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best companion, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his bathrobe moving gently. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone tired by the bluster and constant stimulation of modern television landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in as a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its gentle leads, the series – a half-dozen installment program created by the writing duo, inspired by the author’s subtle story – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing critically over its eyewear at anything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. This show rather, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage to people satisfied to wander out of the spotlight. However. The character (one more distinctly original turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He notices an increasing “urge to throw open the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The recent death of his mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, a writer for others, now finds himself questioning the paths that have brought him to his current situation (single; defensively moustached; writing multiple children’s encyclopedias for a boss who ends correspondence using the words “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) acting as his close companion, mentor and ally in a weekly game night which acts as debate (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The source of the moniker is shrouded in mystery. Perhaps Paul on one occasion consumed a snack very fast, or responded to an awkward situation by panic-peeling some food items with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh lively associate who happily suggests to eliminate his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise audible represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of the comedy driven less by plot and more by what a modern audience could describe as “vibes”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant the actor), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Leading us throughout this minor-key niceness is a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you're right. Still, the actress performs admirably, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings give way if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit has good intentions: which is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its preferred bird.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward toward the ground, calmly assured that nothing is on Earth as cheering as spending time alongside close companions.

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