🔗 Share this article

In a peaceful neighborhood of Dublin, a person is standing in his driveway, dressed in a vest and voicing his concerns. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says Leonard, staring toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems without a change, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, reflects on this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his dressing gown flapping with the wind. “Superior to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For those tired by the noise and constant stimulation of modern television offerings, the show comes as a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment show developed by the writing duo, adapted from the novelist’s quiet book – takes a dim view toward today's world; gazing disapprovingly above its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything that involves loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The program is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute to people happy to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. The character (a further uniquely quirky performance by the actor) is unsettled. He feels a growing “urge to throw open the entryways of my life … slightly.” The loss of his parent has whisked the rug from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now finds himself questioning the paths that have brought him to where he is (single; with a protective mustache; working on multiple kids' reference books for a boss who concludes emails using the words “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins on a journey to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (the actor) functioning as his confidante, mentor and ally in a recurring game night that serves both as symposium (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of the moniker is shrouded to the mists of time. Maybe the postal worker on one occasion consumed a sandwich in record time, or responded to a tense moment by panic-peeling some food items using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh spring-loaded co-worker who happily suggests to kill his terrible supervisor (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the first episode of the comedy not heavily plotted and centered around what the under-30s may refer to as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Guiding viewers throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. Should you wonder, “surely the use of such a famous actor clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a distraction?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases like “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that first reservations fade if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, indicating its preferred bird.” The program that ambles along in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up into space, at other times looking toward the ground, quietly confident that there is nothing in life as heartening as spending time in the company of dear pals.

Open the doors and windows of your life, slightly, and allow it entry.