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In a quiet neighborhood of the Irish capital, an individual is standing on the pavement, sporting a sleeveless jumper and sharing his thoughts. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says the protagonist, gazing up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and currently I feel like if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, reflects on these words. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his robe moving in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a warm cover and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-part show developed by the writing duo, inspired by the novelist’s understated story – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; gazing critically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything that involves unnecessary noise, quick actions or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The series is, instead, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute of those satisfied to pootle around away from attention. However. He (a further uniquely quirky performance by the actor) is unsettled. He feels a growing “need to open the entryways within my world … slightly.” The passing of his beloved mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and this young man, a writer for others, now realizes doubting the paths that have brought him to where he is (unattached; with a protective mustache; working on multiple kids' reference books for an employer who ends emails saying “see you later”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) functioning as his confidante, mentor and ally during their regular board games evening functioning as both debate (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe he previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or reacted to a tense moment by hastily opening some food items by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels Shelley (the performer), a new lively associate who happily suggests to get rid of the awful manager (the actor) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the first episode of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what younger viewers might call “atmosphere”, we meet the older generation (the brilliant the actor), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding the audience amidst this gentle kindness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Indeed, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the presence of such a famous actor contradicts the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a distraction?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases such as “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that first reservations fade if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: the right place being “located on a seat alongside similar shows, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up at the stars, occasionally down at its slippers, quietly confident that no experience is in life as uplifting as passing time alongside good friends.

Open the doors and windows of your life, a little, and let it in.