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In a quiet suburb of Dublin, a man can be found in his driveway, wearing a tank top and sharing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. Harder to see,” says the main character, gazing toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and now I believe unless I take action, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his only confidant, ponders this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Preferable to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For those exhausted by the noise and fast pace of current streaming terrain, this series steps in like a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the novelist’s quiet book – takes a dim view at modern life; peering disapprovingly above its spectacles toward anything in the way of disturbances, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The program rather, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration for those happy to amble along below the parapet. However. He (a further uniquely quirky portrayal from the star) is uneasy. He senses a growing “need to open the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The loss of his parent has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, an anonymous author, now finds himself doubting the choices that directed him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; writing a range of educational volumes for a boss who ends correspondence with the phrase “see you later”).

And so Leonard launches himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the performer) acting as his close companion, life coach and partner during their regular game night which acts as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The source of the moniker appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe Paul once ate a snack unusually quickly, or answered to a tense moment by hastily opening some food items with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a new colleague (the actress), a new energetic co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of this program driven less by plot and centered around what a modern audience might call “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, records then replays trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Leading viewers throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “surely the presence of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as an interruption?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and lines like “Leonard’s problem is his absence of an expression of discovery” help ensure that early misgivings yield though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining at this time. The show's core is well-intentioned: which is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, pointing out the duck it loves.” The program that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, occasionally down at its slippers, serenely certain that there is nothing on Earth as cheering as being with close companions.

Throw open the portals of your life, slightly, and allow it entry.