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In a calm area of the Irish capital, a man is standing outside his home, wearing a sleeveless jumper and voicing his feelings. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” states Leonard, looking toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point it seems if I don’t do something, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his closest confidant, considers these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Superior to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For viewers exhausted by the bluster and constant stimulation of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in like a foil blanket with a hot drink of Ribena.

In line with its quiet characters, the series – a six-part program created by the writing duo, inspired by the author’s subtle 2019 novel – casts a critical eye toward today's world; peering critically through its eyewear at anything that involves loud sounds, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series is, instead, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage to people happy to amble along below the parapet. But. The character (a further distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a creeping “need to open the doors and windows of my life … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now feels doubting the choices that have brought him to this point (alone; sporting facial hair; creating a range of children’s encyclopedias for a man who signs off correspondence with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his confidante, guide and ally in a weekly gaming session that serves both as symposium (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The origin of the moniker appears lost in history. It could be that Paul once ate some food unusually quickly, or responded to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling some food items by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a vibrant character (the performer), a new spring-loaded colleague who cheerily offers to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the first episode of a series not heavily plotted and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “atmosphere”, we meet Paul's father (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Guiding viewers through all this minor-key niceness is a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “certainly the use of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the program's low-key style and starts off as just a diversion?” you would be correct. However, the actress performs admirably, and lines for example “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that early misgivings give way if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism for now. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: that place is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its preferred bird.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, occasionally down at its feet, serenely certain that no experience is on Earth as cheering as being with good friends.

Open the doors and windows of your life, slightly, and allow it entry.