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In a calm suburb of the city, an individual stands in his driveway, sporting a sleeveless jumper and sharing his concerns. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” states the main character, gazing toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I believe if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his closest companion, reflects on this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his robe flapping gently. “Better than striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone exhausted by the bluster and fast pace of current streaming offerings, the show arrives similar to a warm cover and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

In line with its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode comedy created by the writing duo, adapted from Rónán Hession’s understated 2019 novel – takes a dim view on contemporary society; looking critically over its spectacles on everything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. This show is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people satisfied to wander away from attention. However. The character (another distinctly original performance by the actor) is uneasy. He notices a creeping “need to open the openings in my existence … just a bit.” The loss of his parent has yanked the floor out from under him and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels reconsidering the decisions which led him to where he is (alone; with a protective mustache; working on several educational volumes for a man who signs off messages with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (the performer) serving as his close companion, life coach and ally in a recurring gaming session that serves both as debate (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the moniker appears lost in history. It could be that he once ate some food very fast, or answered to an awkward situation by hastily opening some food items by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent energetic colleague who happily suggests to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part during the opening installment of a series focused less on story and centered around what the under-30s might call “atmosphere”, we are introduced to the older generation (the brilliant the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to dazzle his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Leading us throughout this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star clashes with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a distraction?” you're right. However, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue such as “Leonard’s problem is the missing an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations fade if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, indicating the duck it loves.” It’s a series that moves gently in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up at the stars, at other times looking at its slippers, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as cheering as being with dear pals.

Throw open the portals within your world, a little, and let it in.