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In a peaceful neighborhood of Dublin, a man is standing in his driveway, sporting a vest and voicing his feelings. “I notice my voice is fading. More invisible,” remarks the main character, looking toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and now I feel like unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his closest companion, ponders these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his bathrobe moving with the wind. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For anyone exhausted by the bluster and constant stimulation of current streaming terrain, this series arrives like a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode show written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from Rónán Hession’s understated 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly at modern life; peering disapprovingly above its spectacles on everything in the way of unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage to people content to wander below the parapet. But. Leonard (another uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He senses a creeping “desire to unlock the openings in my existence … just a bit.” The loss of his parent has pulled the carpet out from under him and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now feels doubting the decisions that directed him to his current situation (alone; with a protective mustache; writing multiple children’s encyclopedias for an employer who signs off emails using the words “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard begins an exploration for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his confidante, life coach and co-conspirator during their regular board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The beginning of this name seems forgotten to the mists of time. Maybe he previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or responded to a tense moment by nervously peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of the awful manager (the actor) at a fire practice. The rushing noise noticeable represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of this program not heavily plotted and more on what the under-30s might call “vibes”, we meet the older generation (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to amaze his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding the audience throughout this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a diversion?” that's accurate. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases such as “Leonard’s problem is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that early misgivings yield if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, indicating its preferred bird.” The program that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward at its feet, calmly assured that no experience is on Earth as heartening as spending time with close companions.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, just a bit, and allow it entry.