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In a peaceful area of the Irish capital, a man stands outside his home, wearing a tank top and voicing his thoughts. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” states the main character, looking into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and currently it seems if I don’t do something, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe flapping with the wind. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone exhausted by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of a sweet cordial.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a six-episode comedy created by the writing duo, inspired by the author’s quiet book – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; gazing disapprovingly over its spectacles on everything in the way of loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage for those satisfied to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. The character (a further uniquely quirky portrayal from the star) is unsettled. He notices an increasing “need to open the openings within my world … slightly.” The loss of his mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and this young man, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the choices that have brought him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; writing multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who signs off messages using the words “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard launches an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and ally in a weekly game night which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The origin of this name appears lost in mystery. Maybe he on one occasion consumed a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling some food items by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a vibrant character (the actress), a new lively colleague who cheerily offers to kill the awful manager (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The swift movement audible is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of a series driven less by plot and more by what a modern audience could describe as “mood”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who covertly observes, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Guiding us amidst this gentle kindness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “certainly the presence of such a famous actor is at odds with the program's low-key style and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases for example “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that first reservations give way if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The series' spirit is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its preferred bird.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up at the stars, at other times looking toward the ground, serenely certain that no experience is in life as uplifting as spending time alongside close companions.

Open the doors and windows of your life, a little, and allow it entry.