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In a quiet suburb of the Irish capital, a man is standing outside his home, dressed in a vest and sharing his feelings. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says Leonard, gazing into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and currently I feel like unless I take action, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his closest companion, reflects on the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown flapping gently. “Preferable to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone weary by the noise and rat-tat-tat of current streaming offerings, this series arrives as a cozy wrap and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment show created by its authors, inspired by the author’s subtle story – looks disapprovingly at modern life; peering critically over its eyewear on everything in the way of unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. This show is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage to people happy to amble along out of the spotlight. And yet. The character (one more uniquely quirky turn from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the doors and windows in my existence … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has yanked the floor out from under him and this young man, an anonymous author, now finds himself reconsidering the paths that have brought him to where he is (alone; defensively moustached; writing several educational volumes for a man who concludes messages with the phrase “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard begins on a journey for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and partner during their regular gaming session that serves both as debate (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The beginning of the nickname is shrouded to the mists of time. Perhaps Paul on one occasion consumed a snack very fast, or reacted to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts Shelley (the actress), a fresh spring-loaded co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In another part in the initial show of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what a modern audience may refer to as “vibes”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding us through all this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “certainly the presence of a major Hollywood star contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a diversion?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases for example “Leonard's challenge is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that early misgivings give way if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out the duck it loves.” The program that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, at other times looking at its slippers, calmly assured that no experience is in life as uplifting as spending time in the company of close companions.

Throw open the portals within your world, slightly, and allow it entry.