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In a calm neighborhood of Dublin, a person can be found outside his home, wearing a tank top and sharing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” remarks the main character, gazing into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best companion, reflects on these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For those exhausted by the bluster and constant stimulation of current streaming offerings, the show arrives like a cozy wrap with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part comedy created by the writing duo, inspired by Rónán Hession’s understated book – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; gazing critically above its eyewear toward anything related to loud sounds, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – too much drive. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration for those happy to pootle around away from attention. However. Leonard (another uniquely quirky performance from the star) is uneasy. He senses an increasing “urge to throw open the doors and windows of my life … just a bit.” The loss of his parent has pulled the carpet away from his feet and this young man, a writer for others, now finds himself questioning the decisions that have brought him to where he is (unattached; with a protective mustache; writing several educational volumes for a man who ends correspondence with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard begins himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the performer) functioning as his close companion, life coach and co-conspirator in a recurring board games evening which acts as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The origin of this name appears lost in history. Perhaps he previously devoured some food very fast, or answered to an awkward situation by nervously peeling several snacks by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh lively colleague who cheerily offers to eliminate the awful manager (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere in the initial show of a series not heavily plotted and centered around what a modern audience may refer to as “mood”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to impress his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Leading us amidst this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “surely the presence of a big-name celebrity contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” that's accurate. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue like “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that initial doubts give way if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining for now. The show's core is in the right place: the right place being “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its preferred bird.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, at times staring at the stars, occasionally down at its feet, calmly assured that there is nothing on Earth as uplifting as passing time in the company of good friends.

Throw open the portals within your world, a little, and let it in.