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In a peaceful area of the Irish capital, a man stands outside his home, sporting a vest and voicing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. Harder to see,” says Leonard, gazing into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his only confidant, considers these words. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his bathrobe moving in the breeze. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone weary by the noise and fast pace of current streaming offerings, the show arrives like a warm cover and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its gentle leads, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-part show developed by the writing duo, inspired by the novelist’s subtle 2019 novel – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking skeptically over its eyewear at anything that involves disturbances, quick actions or – perish the thought – too much drive. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage for those content to wander away from attention. And yet. He (one more sublimely idiosyncratic turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He senses a growing “need to open the entryways within my world … slightly.” The passing of his mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now finds himself questioning the decisions that directed him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; creating multiple children’s encyclopedias for a boss who concludes messages with the phrase “see you later”).

Thus Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and partner in a recurring board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The beginning of the moniker seems forgotten in history. It could be that he previously devoured a sandwich very fast, or responded to an awkward situation by panic-peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts Shelley (the performer), a recent energetic colleague who happily suggests to get rid of the awful manager (the character) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound noticeable represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

In other scenes in the initial show of the comedy focused less on story and more on what the under-30s might call “mood”, we are introduced to the older generation (the consistently great the actor), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding viewers throughout this gentle kindness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “certainly the inclusion of such a famous actor contradicts the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you're right. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines such as “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks an expression of discovery” help ensure that initial doubts give way if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining currently. The series' spirit has good intentions: which is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, pointing out the duck it loves.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, at other times looking at its feet, quietly confident that no experience is on Earth as heartening as passing time with good friends.

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