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In a quiet neighborhood of Dublin, a man can be found on the pavement, dressed in a vest and sharing his feelings. “I feel myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” states the protagonist, gazing toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems without a change, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his closest and only friend, considers the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown moving gently. “Preferable to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For those exhausted by the bluster and constant stimulation of current streaming offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in as a warm cover and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, Leonard and Hungry Paul – a six-episode program written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by Rónán Hession’s subtle book – takes a dim view on contemporary society; looking disapprovingly above its eyewear on everything that involves loud sounds, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. This show rather, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute for those content to wander below the parapet. And yet. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He senses a creeping “urge to throw open the openings within my world … a little.” The passing of his parent has pulled the carpet out from under him and this young man, an anonymous author, now feels questioning the paths which led him to where he is (alone; defensively moustached; writing multiple educational volumes for a man who ends correspondence using the words “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (the actor) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and co-conspirator in a recurring gaming session which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The beginning of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. Perhaps Paul once ate some food unusually quickly, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening some food items by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound audible represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of this program not heavily plotted and more on what the under-30s could describe as “vibes”, we are introduced to the older generation (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews trivia competitions to impress his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Shepherding viewers through all this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “certainly the presence of such a famous actor contradicts the program's low-key style and starts off as just an interruption?” you would be correct. Still, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue like “The issue with Leonard is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts yield if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit has good intentions: the right place being “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, indicating its preferred bird.” This is a show that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, at times staring into space, sometimes downward toward the ground, serenely certain that nothing is on Earth as cheering as spending time with good friends.

Throw open the portals in your existence, just a bit, and allow it entry.