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In a peaceful suburb of Dublin, a person stands on the pavement, dressed in a vest and expressing his concerns. “It seems like myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” says Leonard, gazing into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I believe if I don’t do something, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his robe moving with the wind. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers tired by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming terrain, this series comes like a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

In line with its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode program created by the writing duo, based on the author’s quiet book – casts a critical eye at modern life; gazing disapprovingly through its spectacles toward anything that involves loud sounds, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The series is, instead, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration for those content to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. Leonard (another distinctly original turn by the actor) is unsettled. He notices a growing “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … slightly.” The passing of his parent has whisked the rug away from his feet and Leonard, an anonymous author, now finds himself doubting the decisions that directed him to where he is (single; defensively moustached; creating several educational volumes for a man who ends messages with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard begins an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his close companion, life coach and partner in a weekly gaming session functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The source of the nickname is shrouded in history. Maybe the postal worker once ate a sandwich very fast, or reacted to an awkward situation by panic-peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a vibrant character (the actress), a new spring-loaded associate who happily suggests to kill the awful manager (the character) at a fire practice. The rushing noise you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the first episode of a series driven less by plot and more on what a modern audience could describe as “mood”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Guiding us amidst this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – the famous actress. Truly, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the use of such a famous actor contradicts the program's low-key style and starts off as just an interruption?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines such as “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” help ensure that initial doubts give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: the right place being “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, showing its preferred bird.” The program that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward at its slippers, quietly confident that nothing is in life as uplifting as being with good friends.

Unlock the entryways of your life, a little, and let it in.