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In a peaceful neighborhood of the Irish capital, a man stands in his driveway, wearing a tank top and sharing his thoughts. “I notice my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” remarks the main character, staring up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, considers this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his dressing gown swaying gently. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone weary by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of current streaming terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul arrives like a warm cover and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

In line with its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part comedy created by the writing duo, based on Rónán Hession’s understated story – casts a critical eye at modern life; gazing disapprovingly above its spectacles toward anything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The program is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute to people satisfied to pootle around below the parapet. And yet. He (another sublimely idiosyncratic performance by the actor) is uneasy. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the openings in my existence … just a bit.” The passing of his parent has yanked the floor from under his slippers and Leonard, a writer for others, now realizes doubting the choices that directed him to this point (single; defensively moustached; working on several kids' reference books for a boss who concludes correspondence with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) acting as his close companion, mentor and co-conspirator in a recurring game night that serves both as discussion (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The source of this name seems forgotten in history. Maybe he previously devoured some food very fast, or responded to an awkward situation by nervously peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes Shelley (the actress), a fresh lively colleague who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In another part in the initial show of this program not heavily plotted and more on what younger viewers might call “atmosphere”, we meet Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to impress his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Shepherding us amidst this gentle kindness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “surely the use of such a famous actor contradicts the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue like “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism currently. The show's core is well-intentioned: which is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, indicating its preferred bird.” The program that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, occasionally down at its feet, quietly confident that there is nothing in the world as cheering as passing time alongside dear pals.

Open the doors and windows within your world, a little, and allow it entry.