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In a quiet suburb of the Irish capital, a person stands in his driveway, sporting a tank top and sharing his concerns. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says the main character, staring up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and now I feel like unless I take action, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his closest companion, ponders this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his bathrobe flapping with the wind. “Preferable to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of current streaming landscape, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a warm cover and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a half-dozen installment show written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from Rónán Hession’s subtle story – casts a critical eye at modern life; gazing disapprovingly over its spectacles at anything in the way of loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute for those content to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. He (one more sublimely idiosyncratic turn from the star) is unsettled. He feels a creeping “desire to unlock the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The loss of his beloved mother has yanked the floor out from under him and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now realizes questioning the choices that have brought him to his current situation (alone; with a protective mustache; writing multiple children’s encyclopedias for a boss who ends messages saying “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard begins an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and partner in a weekly game night functioning as both discussion (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of this name seems forgotten in history. Maybe he once ate a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to a tense moment by panic-peeling several snacks by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a vibrant character (the performer), a recent lively co-worker who cheerily offers to kill his terrible supervisor (the character) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and centered around what the under-30s may refer to as “vibes”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to impress his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding us through all this subtle warmth is a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “surely the inclusion of a major Hollywood star clashes with the program's low-key style and starts off as just a distraction?” you're right. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue for example “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that early misgivings yield if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. The show's core is well-intentioned: the right place being “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, showing its preferred bird.” It’s a series that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up toward the sky, sometimes downward at its feet, calmly assured that no experience is on Earth as uplifting as being alongside dear pals.

Open the doors and windows within your world, slightly, and let it in.