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In a calm neighborhood of the Irish capital, an individual can be found outside his home, wearing a sleeveless jumper and sharing his thoughts. “It seems like my voice is fading. More invisible,” remarks the protagonist, staring toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his only and only friend, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his dressing gown swaying in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For those exhausted by the noise and fast pace of current streaming offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in as a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of a sweet cordial.

In line with its gentle leads, the series – a six-episode show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the author’s understated story – takes a dim view toward today's world; looking skeptically above its spectacles toward anything that involves loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The series is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage to people content to wander below the parapet. And yet. The character (a further sublimely idiosyncratic performance from the star) feels restless. He senses a creeping “desire to unlock the entryways of my life … a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the paths that have brought him to where he is (alone; with a protective mustache; creating multiple educational volumes for an employer who signs off messages using the words “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard launches himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, mentor and co-conspirator in a weekly gaming session which acts as debate (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of this name seems forgotten in history. Perhaps the postal worker previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or responded to a tense moment by panic-peeling some food items by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic associate who cheerily offers to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) at a fire practice. The rushing noise you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy focused less on story and more by what the under-30s may refer to as “vibes”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the actor), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to impress his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Leading the audience amidst this subtle warmth we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Yes, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “surely the inclusion of a big-name celebrity clashes with the program's low-key style and starts off as just a diversion?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue such as “The issue with Leonard is the missing an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that early misgivings fade if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism at this time. The series' spirit has good intentions: that place is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, indicating its favourite duck.” It’s a series that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up at the stars, occasionally down toward the ground, serenely certain that nothing is in life as heartening as passing time with dear pals.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, slightly, and allow it entry.