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In a peaceful neighborhood of the Irish capital, a man stands on the pavement, dressed in a tank top and expressing his concerns. “I notice my voice is fading. Harder to see,” says the main character, gazing into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and now I feel like without a change, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his closest companion, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his robe swaying in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For those exhausted by the noise and fast pace of current streaming offerings, the show steps in as a warm cover and a comforting beverage of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment comedy developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the author’s subtle 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; peering skeptically above its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything that involves loud sounds, quick actions or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. This show on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage for those content to amble along out of the spotlight. And yet. Leonard (one more distinctly original turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He notices a creeping “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The loss of his beloved mother has whisked the rug out from under him and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now feels questioning the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (alone; defensively moustached; creating several children’s encyclopedias for a boss who signs off emails saying “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard starts on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the actor) functioning as his close companion, mentor and ally during their regular gaming session functioning as both debate (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The origin of the nickname is shrouded in mystery. Perhaps he on one occasion consumed some food unusually quickly, or answered to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a new colleague (the actress), a recent lively co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) at a fire practice. The swift movement audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In another part during the opening installment of a series focused less on story and more on what younger viewers might call “mood”, we meet the older generation (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Leading viewers through all this gentle kindness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases such as “Leonard's challenge is the missing a look of sudden insight” help ensure that initial doubts yield though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining currently. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its favourite duck.” The program that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring at the stars, occasionally down toward the ground, serenely certain that no experience is in the world as heartening as spending time with dear pals.

Open the doors and windows within your world, slightly, and welcome it inside.