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In a calm neighborhood of Dublin, an individual stands outside his home, dressed in a tank top and expressing his thoughts. “I notice my voice is fading. Harder to see,” remarks Leonard, looking toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his only and only friend, ponders the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his robe flapping gently. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For anyone weary by the noise and fast pace of current streaming terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives similar to a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its gentle leads, the series – a half-dozen installment comedy created by the writing duo, inspired by the author’s quiet story – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; looking skeptically through its eyewear on everything related to unnecessary noise, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. This show is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people satisfied to amble along away from attention. However. The character (a further uniquely quirky portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He senses an increasing “urge to throw open the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The recent death of his parent has yanked the floor away from his feet and Leonard, a ghost writer, now realizes doubting the choices that have brought him to his current situation (unattached; sporting facial hair; working on multiple educational volumes for an employer who concludes messages using the words “see you later”).

Thus Leonard starts an exploration for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) serving as his confidante, mentor and ally during their regular board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the nickname seems forgotten to the mists of time. Perhaps he on one occasion consumed a sandwich in record time, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling some food items using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh spring-loaded associate who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the character) at a fire practice. The rushing noise audible represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the initial show of the comedy driven less by plot and more by what younger viewers may refer to as “atmosphere”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, records then replays television game programs to dazzle his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Guiding us amidst this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you would be correct. However, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue for example “Leonard's challenge is the missing a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: which is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, showing the duck it loves.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, at times staring at the stars, sometimes downward at its feet, calmly assured that nothing is on Earth as cheering as passing time in the company of good friends.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.