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In a peaceful area of Dublin, an individual can be found in his driveway, wearing a tank top and expressing his thoughts. “I notice myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” states the main character, staring toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and currently I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his closest companion, ponders these words. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Superior to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For anyone tired by the noise and rat-tat-tat of current streaming landscape, the show arrives as a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

In line with its gentle leads, the series – a six-part show written by its authors, adapted from the novelist’s subtle 2019 novel – takes a dim view toward today's world; looking skeptically through its eyewear toward anything in the way of unnecessary noise, quick actions or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute of those content to pootle around away from attention. However. The character (a further sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from the star) feels restless. He feels an increasing “desire to unlock the openings of my life … a little.” The loss of his beloved mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now realizes doubting the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (alone; with a protective mustache; working on a range of educational volumes for an employer who ends messages saying “see you later”).

And so Leonard launches an exploration for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) serving as his confidante, life coach and partner in a recurring gaming session that serves both as symposium (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the nickname seems forgotten in history. Maybe he once ate a sandwich in record time, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling some food items with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh spring-loaded colleague who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise audible is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the initial show of the comedy driven less by plot and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “atmosphere”, we meet Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who privately views, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to impress his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Leading us through all this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the star. If you are thinking, “certainly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a distraction?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue like “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks an expression of discovery” help ensure that early misgivings give way if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: the right place being “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its favourite duck.” This is a show that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring at the stars, sometimes downward at its feet, serenely certain that nothing is in life as uplifting as being alongside dear pals.

Open the doors and windows within your world, slightly, and welcome it inside.