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In a calm neighborhood of the Irish capital, a person is standing on the pavement, dressed in a tank top and voicing his thoughts. “It seems like my voice is fading. More invisible,” states Leonard, gazing into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I believe if I don’t do something, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his closest companion, reflects on these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe moving gently. “Preferable to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone tired by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of current streaming terrain, this series comes similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

In line with its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-episode comedy created by the writing duo, based on the author’s subtle book – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; peering critically above its spectacles at anything in the way of loud sounds, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration of those content to wander below the parapet. And yet. The character (another uniquely quirky portrayal from the star) is uneasy. He notices a creeping “desire to unlock the doors and windows within my world … a little.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and Leonard, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the paths that directed him to where he is (alone; with a protective mustache; working on multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who concludes emails using the words “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard starts on a journey for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the actor) acting as his trusted friend, guide and co-conspirator in a recurring board games evening which acts as symposium (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the nickname appears lost in mystery. Maybe the postal worker on one occasion consumed a snack very fast, or answered to an awkward situation by panic-peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts Shelley (the performer), a fresh lively associate who happily suggests to get rid of the awful manager (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In another part in the first episode of this program driven less by plot and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “vibes”, we meet Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to impress his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Guiding us amidst this gentle kindness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “certainly the use of such a famous actor contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you would be correct. However, the actress performs admirably, and phrases such as “The issue with Leonard is the missing an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that early misgivings give way if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, indicating its favourite duck.” This is a show that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, at other times looking at its feet, calmly assured that no experience is on Earth as cheering as passing time alongside dear pals.

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