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In a calm area of Dublin, an individual can be found in his driveway, wearing a sleeveless jumper and voicing his feelings. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” remarks the protagonist, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and currently I believe unless I take action, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, reflects on these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his bathrobe flapping in the breeze. “Superior to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes like a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-episode program written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the author’s understated story – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; looking skeptically through its eyewear toward anything that involves unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people content to pootle around out of the spotlight. But. He (one more sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal by the actor) is unsettled. He senses a creeping “urge to throw open the openings in my existence … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now finds himself questioning the paths that have brought him to this point (alone; sporting facial hair; creating several children’s encyclopedias for a man who ends emails using the words “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard begins an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his confidante, life coach and ally in a recurring gaming session functioning as both discussion (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The origin of the nickname seems forgotten to the mists of time. It could be that the postal worker once ate a sandwich very fast, or reacted to a tense moment by hastily opening some food items by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a new colleague (the actress), a fresh spring-loaded co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound noticeable represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere in the first episode of this program driven less by plot and more on what younger viewers could describe as “vibes”, we meet the older generation (the ever-wonderful the actor), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, saves and reviews television game programs to amaze his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Leading us throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – the famous actress. Indeed, the star. If you are thinking, “certainly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts does a good job, and lines for example “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations give way if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up at the stars, sometimes downward at its feet, calmly assured that nothing is in life as cheering as spending time alongside good friends.

Throw open the portals of your life, just a bit, and let it in.