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In a calm neighborhood of the city, a man is standing on the pavement, wearing a vest and sharing his thoughts. “I feel myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” says the protagonist, gazing up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and at this point I feel like unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his only confidant, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his dressing gown flapping gently. “Superior to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For those tired by the bluster and fast pace of modern television terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a foil blanket with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its gentle leads, the series – a half-dozen installment program written by its authors, based on Rónán Hession’s quiet 2019 novel – casts a critical eye at modern life; peering critically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute of those satisfied to wander below the parapet. But. Leonard (one more uniquely quirky performance from the star) is unsettled. He notices a growing “desire to unlock the openings in my existence … a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and this young man, an anonymous author, now realizes doubting the choices which led him to this point (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing several kids' reference books for a man who ends correspondence with the phrase “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard begins on a journey for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) acting as his confidante, mentor and co-conspirator in a weekly board games evening functioning as both debate (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the moniker is shrouded to the mists of time. Maybe he previously devoured a snack very fast, or responded to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent lively co-worker who happily suggests to kill his terrible supervisor (the actor) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In another part in the first episode of a series focused less on story and centered around what a modern audience could describe as “mood”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews trivia competitions to amaze his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Shepherding viewers amidst this gentle kindness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the use of a big-name celebrity clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts does a good job, and lines such as “Leonard’s problem is the missing a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that first reservations fade if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: which is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up into space, sometimes downward toward the ground, quietly confident that there is nothing in the world as cheering as passing time alongside good friends.

Unlock the entryways within your world, a little, and welcome it inside.