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In a quiet neighborhood of Dublin, an individual can be found in his driveway, dressed in a tank top and expressing his feelings. “I notice myself getting quieter. More invisible,” states the main character, staring up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I feel like unless I take action, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, considers these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his robe moving gently. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone exhausted by the bluster and fast pace of current streaming offerings, the show comes similar to a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part show created by the writing duo, adapted from Rónán Hession’s quiet 2019 novel – casts a critical eye at modern life; peering critically over its spectacles at anything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people happy to amble along below the parapet. However. The character (another sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from the star) is uneasy. He feels an increasing “urge to throw open the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The recent death of his mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now realizes doubting the choices that have brought him to where he is (alone; sporting facial hair; working on a range of kids' reference books for a man who signs off emails using the words “see you later”).

And so Leonard begins himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) functioning as his close companion, guide and ally in a weekly board games evening which acts as debate (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the moniker is shrouded to the mists of time. It could be that Paul on one occasion consumed a snack in record time, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling some food items with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a new colleague (the actress), a fresh spring-loaded associate who happily suggests to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound you can hear represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy driven less by plot and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “atmosphere”, we meet the older generation (the ever-wonderful the actor), a tired character who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Leading viewers throughout this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and actually is – the famous actress. Indeed, the star. If you are thinking, “surely the use of such a famous actor is at odds with the show's modest approach and starts off as just a distraction?” that's accurate. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases for example “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that first reservations yield though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism at this time. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: that place is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its favourite duck.” It’s a series that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring at the stars, occasionally down at its slippers, quietly confident that there is nothing in the world as heartening as passing time with close companions.

Open the doors and windows of your life, a little, and welcome it inside.