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In a quiet suburb of Dublin, a man stands in his driveway, dressed in a tank top and voicing his feelings. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says the main character, staring into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and now I feel like unless I take action, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his only companion, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his robe moving gently. “Preferable to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of modern television offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of a sweet cordial.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a six-episode show written by its authors, inspired by Rónán Hession’s understated 2019 novel – takes a dim view toward today's world; looking critically over its eyewear at anything in the way of unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The series on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those content to amble along below the parapet. However. The character (one more distinctly original performance by the actor) is unsettled. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the entryways within my world … a little.” The loss of his mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes reconsidering the choices that have brought him to where he is (unattached; defensively moustached; working on several educational volumes for an employer who ends correspondence saying “see you later”).

Thus Leonard starts on a journey for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the performer) acting as his trusted friend, guide and co-conspirator in a weekly game night functioning as both symposium (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the moniker appears lost to the mists of time. It could be that the postal worker previously devoured a sandwich unusually quickly, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels Shelley (the performer), a fresh energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and centered around what younger viewers could describe as “mood”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who privately views, records then replays trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience through all this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the star. In case you're considering, “certainly the presence of such a famous actor contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just an interruption?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts does a good job, and lines like “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts yield if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out the duck it loves.” The program that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward into space, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is in life as uplifting as passing time with close companions.

Open the doors and windows of your life, just a bit, and allow it entry.