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In a quiet area of Dublin, a man can be found in his driveway, sporting a tank top and expressing his thoughts. “I feel myself getting quieter. More invisible,” says the protagonist, looking toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and currently it seems without a change, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, considers the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his bathrobe flapping in the breeze. “Preferable to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For those tired by the noise and constant stimulation of current streaming offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul comes similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment show created by its authors, inspired by the novelist’s understated 2019 novel – takes a dim view toward today's world; peering critically over its eyewear toward anything that involves disturbances, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – too much drive. This show on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage for those satisfied to amble along away from attention. And yet. Leonard (one more sublimely idiosyncratic performance from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He senses an increasing “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … just a bit.” The loss of his parent has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, an anonymous author, now feels reconsidering the paths which led him to where he is (alone; sporting facial hair; working on several educational volumes for a boss who ends emails saying “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard launches himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the performer) functioning as his confidante, guide and ally in a weekly board games evening which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The beginning of the moniker is shrouded in mystery. Perhaps he once ate a sandwich unusually quickly, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a vibrant character (the actress), a recent lively colleague who cheerily offers to kill his terrible supervisor (the character) at a fire practice. The swift movement you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere in the initial show of this program not heavily plotted and more by what a modern audience might call “mood”, we meet the older generation (the ever-wonderful the actor), a worn-out individual who privately views, saves and reviews trivia competitions to impress his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Shepherding viewers amidst this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “certainly the inclusion of such a famous actor contradicts the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue for example “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” help ensure that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism currently. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, showing its preferred bird.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward at its feet, quietly confident that there is nothing on Earth as heartening as passing time with good friends.

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