🔗 Share this article

In a calm suburb of Dublin, a man is standing on the pavement, sporting a sleeveless jumper and expressing his concerns. “It seems like my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” remarks the main character, looking toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and currently I believe without a change, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his only and only friend, considers these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown flapping gently. “Better than trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For anyone weary by the noise and fast pace of today’s TV landscape, this series comes similar to a warm cover and warming mug of Ribena.

Similar to its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the novelist’s subtle book – casts a critical eye toward today's world; gazing critically through its eyewear at anything in the way of loud sounds, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – too much drive. This show on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage for those happy to amble along out of the spotlight. However. He (one more uniquely quirky portrayal from the star) is unsettled. He notices a growing “need to open the doors and windows within my world … slightly.” The recent death of his parent has yanked the floor from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now realizes doubting the choices which led him to where he is (unattached; with a protective mustache; working on a range of educational volumes for a boss who signs off messages saying “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard starts an exploration to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the performer) functioning as his close companion, life coach and co-conspirator in a recurring board games evening functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The origin of the moniker appears lost to the mists of time. Perhaps Paul on one occasion consumed a sandwich in record time, or reacted to an awkward situation by hastily opening several snacks by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels Shelley (the performer), a fresh spring-loaded associate who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate the awful manager (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the initial show of this program not heavily plotted and more by what younger viewers could describe as “vibes”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the performer), a tired character who secretly watches, saves and reviews trivia competitions to amaze his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Leading the audience through all this subtle warmth we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the star. If you are thinking, “certainly the use of a big-name celebrity contradicts the program's low-key style and starts off as just an interruption?” you're right. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and lines for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining for now. The show's core has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward into space, occasionally down at its slippers, calmly assured that nothing is in the world as heartening as passing time alongside dear pals.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, just a bit, and welcome it inside.