🔗 Share this article

In a peaceful neighborhood of Dublin, an individual stands on the pavement, wearing a tank top and voicing his concerns. “I feel myself getting quieter. More invisible,” says the main character, looking up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and now I feel like without a change, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his only companion, ponders these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Better than striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For those tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of current streaming offerings, Leonard and Hungry Paul steps in like a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment comedy created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the author’s understated 2019 novel – casts a critical eye toward today's world; peering skeptically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything that involves unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The program rather, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration of those content to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. Leonard (another sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He feels a creeping “need to open the doors and windows in my existence … just a bit.” The recent death of his parent has pulled the carpet away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the paths which led him to this point (alone; defensively moustached; working on several educational volumes for a man who concludes messages saying “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard begins on a journey for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his close companion, life coach and ally in a weekly gaming session that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The beginning of the nickname appears lost in history. It could be that he previously devoured a snack in record time, or answered to an awkward situation by nervously peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent spring-loaded colleague who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the initial show of a series not heavily plotted and more by what the under-30s may refer to as “mood”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the performer), a tired character who privately views, tapes and rewatches television game programs to amaze his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Leading the audience through all this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the program's low-key style and starts off as just an interruption?” you're right. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines like “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” help ensure that early misgivings fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: which is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, showing its preferred bird.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, quietly confident that nothing is in the world as cheering as spending time in the company of close companions.

Throw open the portals within your world, slightly, and let it in.