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In a quiet area of the Irish capital, an individual stands on the pavement, wearing a sleeveless jumper and sharing his concerns. “I feel my voice is fading. More invisible,” states the protagonist, gazing toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and currently I believe unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his only companion, considers the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his dressing gown moving with the wind. “Preferable to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For viewers exhausted by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part program developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the novelist’s understated 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; peering skeptically through its eyewear at anything that involves disturbances, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – too much drive. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration for those content to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. Leonard (a further distinctly original performance from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He senses a creeping “desire to unlock the openings in my existence … a little.” The recent death of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now realizes questioning the decisions which led him to this point (alone; defensively moustached; working on a range of children’s encyclopedias for an employer who concludes correspondence saying “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins himself on a quest to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his close companion, life coach and co-conspirator in a weekly game night which acts as symposium (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the moniker appears lost in mystery. Maybe he on one occasion consumed a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent energetic co-worker who happily suggests to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the first episode of the comedy not heavily plotted and more by what younger viewers might call “mood”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, records then replays television game programs to amaze his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Guiding us through all this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the famous actress. Yes, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the use of a big-name celebrity clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a diversion?” that's accurate. Still, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue for example “Leonard's challenge is his absence of an expression of discovery” help ensure that initial doubts yield if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: the right place being “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, showing the duck it loves.” The program that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up at the stars, at other times looking at its slippers, calmly assured that no experience is on Earth as heartening as being in the company of dear pals.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and allow it entry.