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In a quiet area of the city, a person is standing outside his home, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and voicing his concerns. “I notice my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” states the main character, staring up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and now I believe without a change, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his only confidant, reflects on these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his dressing gown flapping in the breeze. “Preferable to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For those tired by the noise and fast pace of current streaming offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in as a foil blanket and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

In line with its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment program developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on Rónán Hession’s subtle 2019 novel – takes a dim view on contemporary society; peering skeptically above its spectacles on everything that involves unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. The program on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage for those content to pootle around below the parapet. But. He (a further distinctly original performance by the actor) feels restless. He notices a growing “need to open the openings in my existence … a little.” The loss of his mother has whisked the rug out from under him and Leonard, a ghost writer, now finds himself reconsidering the decisions which led him to his current situation (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing several children’s encyclopedias for a man who concludes emails with the phrase “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard launches himself on a quest to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the actor) functioning as his close companion, mentor and co-conspirator in a weekly gaming session that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of the nickname seems forgotten in mystery. Maybe Paul previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts Shelley (the actress), a recent spring-loaded colleague who cheerily offers to eliminate his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the initial show of a series driven less by plot and more by what younger viewers may refer to as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter the older generation (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to impress his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Guiding us amidst this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “certainly the use of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the show's modest approach and starts off as just an interruption?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases such as “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that first reservations give way if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: the right place being “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, indicating its favourite duck.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, at times staring at the stars, at other times looking toward the ground, quietly confident that there is nothing in life as cheering as spending time alongside good friends.

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