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In a calm suburb of Dublin, a man stands on the pavement, wearing a vest and voicing his feelings. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” states the main character, staring toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and currently I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest and only friend, reflects on these words. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his bathrobe swaying in the breeze. “Better than trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers weary by the chaos and constant stimulation of today’s TV landscape, the show comes as a foil blanket with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-episode show developed by its authors, inspired by the author’s subtle 2019 novel – casts a critical eye toward today's world; peering skeptically over its spectacles at anything related to loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – too much drive. The program on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration of those satisfied to amble along out of the spotlight. However. Leonard (one more uniquely quirky performance from the star) feels restless. He senses an increasing “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The recent death of his parent has yanked the floor from under his slippers and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels reconsidering the decisions which led him to this point (unattached; with a protective mustache; working on several educational volumes for a boss who ends correspondence using the words “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the performer) acting as his trusted friend, life coach and co-conspirator in a weekly gaming session that serves both as symposium (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the nickname seems forgotten in history. It could be that Paul on one occasion consumed a sandwich very fast, or responded to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening several snacks with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new spring-loaded associate who cheerily offers to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the first episode of a series focused less on story and more by what younger viewers could describe as “mood”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, saves and reviews television game programs to amaze his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Shepherding us through all this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “surely the use of such a famous actor contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a diversion?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of an expression of discovery” help ensure that first reservations give way if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: the right place being “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its preferred bird.” It’s a series that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring into space, sometimes downward toward the ground, calmly assured that no experience is on Earth as cheering as spending time with close companions.

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