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In a quiet area of the Irish capital, a man can be found in his driveway, dressed in a tank top and voicing his feelings. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” states the protagonist, gazing up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and at this point I feel like unless I take action, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his only and only friend, ponders these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe flapping gently. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For those tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of current streaming landscape, the show arrives like a foil blanket with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part program written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the novelist’s understated book – casts a critical eye toward today's world; gazing skeptically through its spectacles toward anything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The series on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration to people content to wander below the parapet. But. Leonard (one more uniquely quirky performance from the star) is uneasy. He feels a creeping “desire to unlock the entryways within my world … a little.” The recent death of his mother has whisked the rug out from under him and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels reconsidering the decisions that have brought him to where he is (alone; sporting facial hair; creating a range of kids' reference books for a man who ends messages saying “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard starts an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the actor) serving as his close companion, guide and ally in a recurring game night that serves both as debate (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of the moniker is shrouded in mystery. It could be that the postal worker once ate a snack unusually quickly, or answered to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts a new colleague (the actress), a fresh energetic co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to kill his terrible supervisor (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise audible is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In other scenes in the first episode of this program driven less by plot and centered around what the under-30s might call “mood”, we meet the older generation (the brilliant the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Guiding us through all this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the presence of a big-name celebrity contradicts the program's low-key style and starts off as just an interruption?” you're right. However, Roberts does a good job, and lines for example “Leonard’s problem is his absence of an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, showing its favourite duck.” The program that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, sometimes downward at its slippers, quietly confident that no experience is on Earth as uplifting as being alongside good friends.

Open the doors and windows within your world, a little, and let it in.