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In a calm neighborhood of Dublin, a man can be found in his driveway, sporting a tank top and expressing his thoughts. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” remarks Leonard, gazing into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and now I believe without a change, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his only companion, considers these words. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his robe flapping gently. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers tired by the noise and rat-tat-tat of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a cozy wrap with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part comedy created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the author’s understated book – takes a dim view at modern life; looking skeptically over its spectacles on everything that involves disturbances, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration of those happy to amble along away from attention. And yet. Leonard (one more distinctly original turn from the star) feels restless. He feels a creeping “urge to throw open the entryways in my existence … slightly.” The passing of his beloved mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now finds himself doubting the paths that have brought him to this point (alone; sporting facial hair; creating a range of kids' reference books for a man who signs off correspondence saying “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard launches himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (the actor) acting as his confidante, life coach and co-conspirator during their regular board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The source of the nickname appears lost in mystery. Perhaps the postal worker once ate a sandwich very fast, or responded to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a vibrant character (the performer), a new spring-loaded associate who happily suggests to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the first episode of this program focused less on story and centered around what a modern audience may refer to as “mood”, we are introduced to the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a tired character who secretly watches, records then replays trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Guiding the audience amidst this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – the famous actress. Indeed, the star. Should you wonder, “certainly the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines for example “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings give way if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, showing its favourite duck.” This is a show that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring at the stars, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is on Earth as cheering as spending time in the company of dear pals.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and let it in.