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In a peaceful neighborhood of Dublin, an individual can be found on the pavement, wearing a tank top and expressing his concerns. “I feel myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” states the protagonist, looking toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point it seems without a change, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his bathrobe flapping in the breeze. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For viewers exhausted by the noise and constant stimulation of current streaming landscape, the show arrives like a foil blanket and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment show created by its authors, adapted from Rónán Hession’s quiet 2019 novel – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing critically through its spectacles toward anything that involves disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute to people content to amble along away from attention. And yet. Leonard (another uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the doors and windows in my existence … a little.” The recent death of his mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and this young man, a ghost writer, now realizes questioning the choices that have brought him to his current situation (alone; with a protective mustache; creating multiple children’s encyclopedias for an employer who ends correspondence with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard begins an exploration for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his close companion, life coach and partner in a recurring game night that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The origin of this name is shrouded in mystery. It could be that the postal worker on one occasion consumed a sandwich very fast, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling some food items using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent spring-loaded colleague who cheerily offers to get rid of his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the initial show of a series not heavily plotted and centered around what younger viewers might call “mood”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant the performer), a tired character who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to impress his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Shepherding us throughout this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the star. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the presence of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as an interruption?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue for example “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” help ensure that initial doubts fade though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: that place is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward into space, occasionally down at its slippers, calmly assured that nothing is in life as uplifting as being in the company of close companions.

Open the doors and windows of your life, a little, and let it in.