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In a peaceful suburb of the Irish capital, a person stands in his driveway, sporting a sleeveless jumper and voicing his thoughts. “I notice my voice is fading. More invisible,” says the protagonist, looking into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his only companion, considers this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his robe moving gently. “Better than striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For viewers exhausted by the chaos and constant stimulation of current streaming offerings, the show steps in similar to a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment show written by the writing duo, based on Rónán Hession’s quiet book – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; peering disapprovingly through its eyewear toward anything related to disturbances, sudden movements or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. This show on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage for those happy to wander below the parapet. However. The character (one more distinctly original turn by the actor) is uneasy. He feels a creeping “need to open the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The passing of his mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the decisions that directed him to where he is (single; with a protective mustache; writing several children’s encyclopedias for a boss who signs off emails using the words “see you later”).

And so Leonard begins an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his close companion, mentor and co-conspirator in a weekly game night which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of the nickname appears lost in history. Perhaps the postal worker previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a new colleague (the actress), a new lively associate who cheerily offers to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the initial show of a series focused less on story and more by what the under-30s could describe as “mood”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, saves and reviews trivia competitions to impress his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Shepherding viewers amidst this minor-key niceness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – the famous actress. Indeed, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” you're right. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue such as “Leonard’s problem is the missing a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit has good intentions: that place is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its preferred bird.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, at times staring at the stars, at other times looking at its feet, calmly assured that no experience is on Earth as heartening as spending time alongside dear pals.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and welcome it inside.