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In a calm area of the city, an individual stands outside his home, sporting a tank top and sharing his thoughts. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says the main character, gazing into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and now I feel like if I don’t do something, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his closest confidant, ponders the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his robe flapping with the wind. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those exhausted by the noise and constant stimulation of modern television terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in similar to a warm cover with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part show developed by its authors, inspired by Rónán Hession’s subtle 2019 novel – takes a dim view at modern life; peering disapprovingly above its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything in the way of disturbances, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage to people satisfied to pootle around away from attention. But. The character (one more distinctly original portrayal by the actor) feels restless. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the doors and windows of my life … just a bit.” The loss of his parent has whisked the rug out from under him and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now feels questioning the choices that have brought him to this point (alone; sporting facial hair; creating several kids' reference books for a boss who signs off messages using the words “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) functioning as his close companion, mentor and ally during their regular board games evening which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The beginning of this name is shrouded in history. It could be that he on one occasion consumed a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a vibrant character (the performer), a recent lively associate who cheerily offers to get rid of the awful manager (the character) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere in the initial show of a series focused less on story and more on what a modern audience might call “atmosphere”, viewers encounter the older generation (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to amaze his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Shepherding the audience amidst this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “surely the inclusion of a major Hollywood star contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you're right. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases like “Leonard’s problem is the missing a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts fade if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. The show's core has good intentions: which is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its preferred bird.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, occasionally down toward the ground, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as heartening as spending time in the company of dear pals.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and let it in.