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In a calm suburb of the Irish capital, a person stands in his driveway, dressed in a vest and expressing his thoughts. “I notice myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” says the main character, gazing toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I believe unless I take action, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, considers this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his dressing gown flapping gently. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and constant stimulation of current streaming offerings, the show steps in as a cozy wrap and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment comedy written by the writing duo, adapted from Rónán Hession’s subtle book – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; gazing critically above its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything that involves disturbances, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The program is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those happy to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. The character (a further distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He feels a creeping “desire to unlock 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 writer for others, now finds himself reconsidering the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (single; sporting facial hair; working on a range of kids' reference books for a boss who signs off correspondence with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins himself on a quest to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the performer) acting as his confidante, life coach and partner during their regular gaming session which acts as debate (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The origin of the nickname seems forgotten in mystery. Maybe the postal worker once ate a snack in record time, or reacted to a tense moment by hastily opening several snacks by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new lively associate who lightheartedly proposes to kill his terrible supervisor (the character) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the first episode of a series focused less on story and more by what younger viewers may refer to as “vibes”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the brilliant the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to impress his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Leading viewers throughout this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the use of such a famous actor is at odds with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you would be correct. However, the actress performs admirably, and lines such as “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism currently. The series' spirit has good intentions: that place is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its favourite duck.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up at the stars, occasionally down at its slippers, calmly assured that no experience is in life as cheering as spending time in the company of close companions.

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