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In a calm area of Dublin, an individual stands in his driveway, sporting a vest and expressing his concerns. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” states the main character, looking toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and now it seems if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his only confidant, considers the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his bathrobe flapping with the wind. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers tired by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in as a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Like its gentle leads, the series – a half-dozen installment program written by its authors, adapted from the author’s subtle book – looks disapprovingly at modern life; gazing critically through its spectacles at anything in the way of disturbances, sudden movements or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. This show is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute of those content to amble along out of the spotlight. However. Leonard (one more sublimely idiosyncratic turn from the star) is unsettled. He feels an increasing “urge to throw open the openings within my world … slightly.” The passing of his mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels doubting the decisions which led him to this point (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing multiple kids' reference books for a man who signs off emails saying “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard launches himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the performer) acting as his close companion, guide and partner during their regular board games evening which acts as debate (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The source of this name appears lost in mystery. Perhaps Paul previously devoured a snack very fast, or answered to an awkward situation by panic-peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound audible is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the first episode of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what a modern audience could describe as “mood”, we meet the older generation (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who covertly observes, saves and reviews television game programs to dazzle his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Leading the audience throughout this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Indeed, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “surely the use of such a famous actor clashes with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a distraction?” you're right. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases for example “Leonard’s problem is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that early misgivings fade though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: which is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, showing its preferred bird.” The program that ambles along in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up toward the sky, sometimes downward at its feet, calmly assured that no experience is in life as cheering as passing time in the company of dear pals.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.