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In a calm suburb of Dublin, a person is standing in his driveway, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and sharing his thoughts. “It seems like my voice is fading. Harder to see,” remarks the protagonist, staring toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and currently I believe unless I take action, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, reflects on these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Superior to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those weary by the chaos and constant stimulation of modern television offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-part show created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the author’s subtle 2019 novel – casts a critical eye toward today's world; gazing disapprovingly through its spectacles toward anything in the way of disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The program is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration to people content to pootle around below the parapet. However. He (a further uniquely quirky performance by the actor) is unsettled. He notices an increasing “need to open the openings within my world … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, a writer for others, now finds himself reconsidering the decisions that directed him to where he is (alone; with a protective mustache; working on several kids' reference books for an employer who ends correspondence using the words “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard begins on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Paul (the performer) functioning as his confidante, life coach and co-conspirator in a weekly game night functioning as both symposium (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The source of this name appears lost in mystery. Maybe Paul on one occasion consumed a snack unusually quickly, or responded to a tense moment by panic-peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels Shelley (the performer), a fresh spring-loaded associate who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate the awful manager (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the first episode of this program focused less on story and centered around what younger viewers could describe as “mood”, we are introduced to the older generation (the consistently great the actor), a tired character who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding the audience through all this subtle warmth is a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “surely the use of a big-name celebrity contradicts the show's modest approach and starts off as just a distraction?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and phrases such as “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that first reservations fade though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: the right place being “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, pointing out its preferred bird.” The program that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring into space, sometimes downward toward the ground, serenely certain that there is nothing in the world as cheering as passing time with good friends.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.