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In a peaceful area of Dublin, a man is standing on the pavement, wearing a tank top and expressing his concerns. “It seems like my voice is fading. Harder to see,” states the main character, staring into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems without a change, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best companion, ponders these words. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Better than trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers tired by the noise and constant stimulation of current streaming landscape, the show comes like a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment comedy written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by Rónán Hession’s quiet 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly at modern life; peering skeptically through its spectacles on everything that involves loud sounds, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. This show rather, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute to people happy to pootle around away from attention. But. The character (another uniquely quirky performance from the star) feels restless. He notices a growing “desire to unlock the entryways of my life … a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has whisked the rug out from under him and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes reconsidering the paths which led him to his current situation (single; with a protective mustache; writing a range of educational volumes for an employer who ends emails with the phrase “see you later”).

Thus Leonard starts an exploration to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (the actor) functioning as his close companion, life coach and ally during their regular game night functioning as both debate (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the moniker seems forgotten in history. It could be that he once ate a snack in record time, or answered to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening some food items using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent lively colleague who happily suggests to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound noticeable represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what the under-30s may refer to as “atmosphere”, we meet Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the performer), a tired character who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to amaze his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding us through all this gentle kindness is a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the use of such a famous actor clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a diversion?” that's accurate. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases for example “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that early misgivings yield if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit is in the right place: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, showing its favourite duck.” The program that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, sometimes downward at its feet, serenely certain that no experience is on Earth as cheering as being with dear pals.

Unlock the entryways within your world, a little, and welcome it inside.