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In a calm area of the city, an individual stands outside his home, dressed in a vest and sharing his concerns. “I feel my voice is fading. More invisible,” states Leonard, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and currently it seems if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, ponders these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe moving in the breeze. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For those exhausted by the noise and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in as a cozy wrap with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part show written by the writing duo, inspired by Rónán Hession’s subtle book – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; gazing critically through its eyewear on everything that involves disturbances, quick actions or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The program is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration of those content to wander below the parapet. But. He (a further uniquely quirky turn from the star) is unsettled. He feels an increasing “urge to throw open the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug out from under him and Leonard, a writer for others, now finds himself reconsidering the choices that directed him to this point (alone; defensively moustached; writing a range of children’s encyclopedias for an employer who ends emails with the phrase “see you later”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Paul (the performer) functioning as his close companion, mentor and partner in a weekly gaming session functioning as both discussion (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The origin of this name is shrouded in history. Perhaps Paul previously devoured a snack very fast, or answered to an awkward situation by hastily opening four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh spring-loaded co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the actor) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound you can hear represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the initial show of this program not heavily plotted and more by what the under-30s may refer to as “vibes”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the consistently great the actor), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to dazzle his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Guiding viewers amidst this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “surely the presence of a big-name celebrity clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a diversion?” you would be correct. However, the actress performs admirably, and lines for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that initial doubts give way though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The show's core is well-intentioned: which is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its favourite duck.” The program that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring into space, at other times looking at its feet, serenely certain that nothing is in life as heartening as passing time alongside good friends.

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