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In a quiet neighborhood of the Irish capital, an individual can be found in his driveway, wearing a vest and voicing his concerns. “I feel myself getting quieter. More invisible,” says the main character, staring into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and currently it seems unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, considers the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his bathrobe moving gently. “Better than trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its gentle leads, this comedy – a six-part show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by Rónán Hession’s understated book – takes a dim view on contemporary society; gazing critically over its eyewear toward anything in the way of disturbances, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. The series is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute for those happy to pootle around below the parapet. And yet. Leonard (a further uniquely quirky portrayal from the star) feels restless. He notices a creeping “desire to unlock the openings within my world … slightly.” The loss of his mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels reconsidering the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (alone; with a protective mustache; creating several children’s encyclopedias for a boss who concludes correspondence using the words “see you later”).

Thus Leonard begins on a journey to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and ally in a weekly gaming session which acts as symposium (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the moniker seems forgotten in mystery. Maybe Paul once ate a snack very fast, or answered to an awkward situation by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a vibrant character (the actress), a recent lively associate who happily suggests to eliminate his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise audible represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

In another part in the first episode of the comedy focused less on story and more on what younger viewers might call “atmosphere”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to impress his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Shepherding us throughout this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and truly is – the famous actress. Indeed, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “certainly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you're right. Still, the actress performs admirably, and lines such as “Leonard’s problem is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts yield if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

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 favourite duck.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up toward the sky, occasionally down toward the ground, serenely certain that there is nothing on Earth as cheering as spending time with close companions.

Throw open the portals in your existence, just a bit, and let it in.