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In a peaceful suburb of Dublin, a person stands outside his home, sporting a vest and voicing his feelings. “I notice myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” remarks the main character, gazing toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and now I believe unless I take action, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his only confidant, considers this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his bathrobe flapping gently. “Preferable to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For those exhausted by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of current streaming terrain, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in like a cozy wrap and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Like its gentle leads, this comedy – a six-episode show developed by the writing duo, inspired by the author’s understated 2019 novel – takes a dim view on contemporary society; peering critically over its spectacles toward anything in the way of unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The program on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute to people satisfied to wander away from attention. However. The character (one more uniquely quirky portrayal by the actor) is uneasy. He senses a growing “need to open the openings in my existence … just a bit.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the paths that directed him to his current situation (unattached; with a protective mustache; writing multiple children’s encyclopedias for an employer who concludes emails using the words “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard begins himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the actor) acting as his trusted friend, mentor and partner during their regular gaming session that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The beginning of this name is shrouded to the mists of time. Maybe Paul previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the character) at a fire practice. The rushing noise noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the first episode of this program focused less on story and centered around what the under-30s could describe as “vibes”, we meet Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to amaze his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Leading viewers throughout this minor-key niceness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “certainly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star clashes with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a diversion?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue for example “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts give way though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its favourite duck.” This is a show that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, at times staring toward the sky, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that nothing is on Earth as cheering as spending time alongside good friends.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, a little, and welcome it inside.