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In a quiet area of Dublin, a man can be found on the pavement, wearing a tank top and sharing his concerns. “It seems like my voice is fading. Harder to see,” states the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and at this point it seems without a change, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his closest confidant, considers the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his dressing gown moving gently. “Superior to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and constant stimulation of current streaming terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes as a warm cover and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-part show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on Rónán Hession’s quiet story – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; gazing disapprovingly over its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute of those happy to amble along away from attention. But. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic turn from the star) feels restless. He senses a creeping “desire to unlock the entryways within my world … slightly.” The recent death of his parent has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now finds himself doubting the paths that directed him to where he is (unattached; defensively moustached; working on several children’s encyclopedias for an employer who signs off emails with the phrase “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard begins himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (the performer) functioning as his confidante, guide and partner during their regular board games evening functioning as both symposium (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the moniker appears lost in mystery. Perhaps he previously devoured some food in record time, or responded to a tense moment by panic-peeling some food items with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a vibrant character (the performer), a recent spring-loaded associate who happily suggests to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) at a fire practice. The rushing noise audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of this program focused less on story and more by what younger viewers could describe as “vibes”, we meet the older generation (the ever-wonderful the performer), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, saves and reviews television game programs to dazzle his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience through all this subtle warmth is a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the famous actress. Yes, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the presence of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a diversion?” you're right. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases such as “Leonard’s problem is his absence of a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings yield though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism for now. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, indicating its preferred bird.” It’s a series that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as heartening as spending time alongside dear pals.

Unlock the entryways within your world, slightly, and let it in.