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In a quiet area of Dublin, a person stands on the pavement, dressed in a vest and expressing his feelings. “I feel myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” states the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and at this point it seems if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, considers this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his dressing gown flapping in the breeze. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and constant stimulation of current streaming offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-episode show written by its authors, inspired by Rónán Hession’s understated book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking skeptically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything in the way of unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The program is, instead, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute to people happy to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. The character (another sublimely idiosyncratic performance from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a creeping “desire to unlock the openings of my life … a little.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor out from under him and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now realizes reconsidering the paths which led him to his current situation (unattached; sporting facial hair; creating several kids' reference books for a man who ends emails saying “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard starts an exploration for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, life coach and partner in a weekly board games evening that serves both as debate (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The beginning of the nickname appears lost in history. It could be that he previously devoured a snack in record time, or responded to an awkward situation by panic-peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a vibrant character (the actress), a new spring-loaded associate who cheerily offers to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise noticeable represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of the comedy focused less on story and more on what a modern audience might call “vibes”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the brilliant the actor), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Guiding the audience through all this subtle warmth is a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Indeed, the star. If you are thinking, “surely the use of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and starts off as just an interruption?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases like “Leonard's challenge is the missing an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations give way if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining for now. The show's core is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring toward the sky, sometimes downward toward the ground, quietly confident that nothing is on Earth as uplifting as being with good friends.

Throw open the portals in your existence, a little, and allow it entry.