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In a quiet area of the Irish capital, an individual stands outside his home, dressed in a vest and sharing his thoughts. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” states the protagonist, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and currently it seems without a change, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best companion, considers this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his dressing gown flapping in the breeze. “Better than trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers exhausted by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming offerings, the show comes like a warm cover and a comforting beverage of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the author’s understated book – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; gazing critically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything in the way of loud sounds, quick actions or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The program on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration for those happy to amble along out of the spotlight. However. He (a further sublimely idiosyncratic performance from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He notices an increasing “need to open the entryways within my world … slightly.” The loss of his parent has yanked the floor out from under him and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels questioning the decisions which led him to his current situation (single; defensively moustached; writing multiple children’s encyclopedias for an employer who ends emails using the words “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Paul (the actor) serving as his close companion, guide and co-conspirator in a weekly gaming session that serves both as discussion (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The origin of this name appears lost to the mists of time. It could be that Paul once ate some food in record time, or answered to an awkward situation by panic-peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a vibrant character (the performer), a recent spring-loaded colleague who cheerily offers to get rid of his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere in the initial show of this program driven less by plot and centered around what younger viewers could describe as “mood”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the actor), a tired character who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to amaze his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding the audience through all this gentle kindness is a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases for example “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings yield if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: which is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its preferred bird.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, at times staring toward the sky, occasionally down at its feet, serenely certain that nothing is in life as cheering as being in the company of good friends.

Throw open the portals in your existence, a little, and welcome it inside.