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In a peaceful suburb of Dublin, an individual stands on the pavement, wearing a vest and sharing his feelings. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says the main character, gazing into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems without a change, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his only companion, ponders the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his robe moving in the breeze. “Preferable to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers tired by the noise and constant stimulation of current streaming landscape, this series comes similar to a warm cover with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Like its quiet characters, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode comedy created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the author’s subtle 2019 novel – takes a dim view at modern life; gazing disapprovingly over its eyewear toward anything that involves loud sounds, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The series rather, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those satisfied to amble along out of the spotlight. However. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic turn by the actor) is unsettled. He feels a growing “need to open the openings within my world … slightly.” The passing of his mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels questioning the decisions which led him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; working on multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who ends messages saying “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Paul (the performer) functioning as his close companion, mentor and partner in a recurring game night functioning as both discussion (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The source of the moniker appears lost in mystery. Maybe the postal worker once ate some food unusually quickly, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling some food items by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh lively colleague who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound noticeable represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the initial show of a series not heavily plotted and centered around what a modern audience may refer to as “vibes”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the actor), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, records then replays daytime quiz shows to impress his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Guiding viewers through all this gentle kindness is a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – the famous actress. Truly, the star. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue like “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that early misgivings give way if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining currently. The show's core is in the right place: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, pointing out its favourite duck.” This is a show that ambles along in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, sometimes downward at its slippers, quietly confident that nothing is on Earth as heartening as being alongside close companions.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and let it in.