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In a quiet neighborhood of the city, an individual stands in his driveway, wearing a vest and voicing his thoughts. “I notice myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” states the protagonist, staring toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems if I don’t do something, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, reflects on the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his robe swaying gently. “Superior to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone weary by the noise and constant stimulation of modern television terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in as a warm cover and warming mug of Ribena.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-part program written by the writing duo, based on Rónán Hession’s understated book – takes a dim view on contemporary society; gazing skeptically over its spectacles at anything in the way of loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The program rather, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration for those satisfied to amble along out of the spotlight. But. He (a further sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal by the actor) is uneasy. He feels an increasing “urge to throw open the doors and windows of my life … slightly.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, a writer for others, now finds himself questioning the decisions which led him to his current situation (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing a range of educational volumes for a man who signs off emails saying “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his confidante, life coach and partner during their regular gaming session which acts as debate (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The source of this name is shrouded in mystery. Perhaps the postal worker once ate a snack in record time, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a vibrant character (the actress), a new spring-loaded colleague who cheerily offers to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The rushing noise audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of the comedy focused less on story and more on what a modern audience could describe as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter the older generation (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Shepherding viewers throughout this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and actually is – the famous actress. Yes, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “surely the presence of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as an interruption?” that's accurate. However, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue for example “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” help ensure that early misgivings give way if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The series' spirit has good intentions: which is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, indicating its favourite duck.” The program that moves gently in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, serenely certain that there is nothing in life as cheering as spending time with close companions.

Open the doors and windows of your life, a little, and welcome it inside.