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In a quiet neighborhood of the city, a person stands in his driveway, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and sharing his thoughts. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” states Leonard, gazing into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and currently I believe if I don’t do something, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his only confidant, ponders this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown flapping in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For viewers tired by the noise and rat-tat-tat of current streaming terrain, the show arrives similar to a foil blanket with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part program created by its authors, adapted from Rónán Hession’s quiet book – takes a dim view at modern life; gazing disapprovingly over its eyewear toward anything in the way of disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The program rather, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people content to pootle around away from attention. However. He (a further distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He notices a creeping “desire to unlock the entryways in my existence … a little.” The loss of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and this young man, a ghost writer, now feels reconsidering the decisions that directed him to where he is (single; defensively moustached; writing multiple children’s encyclopedias for a boss who ends messages saying “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the actor) serving as his close companion, guide and ally in a recurring game night that serves both as discussion (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The source of the nickname is shrouded in mystery. Maybe Paul on one occasion consumed a sandwich very fast, or responded to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a new colleague (the actress), a fresh energetic colleague who cheerily offers to kill his terrible supervisor (the actor) during the office fire drill. The swift movement noticeable represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In another part during the opening installment of this program driven less by plot and more by what younger viewers could describe as “atmosphere”, we meet the older generation (the ever-wonderful the actor), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to impress his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Leading viewers amidst this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Yes, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “surely the inclusion of a big-name celebrity clashes with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” you would be correct. However, the actress performs admirably, and lines like “The issue with Leonard is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: the right place being “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating the duck it loves.” The program that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring into space, occasionally down toward the ground, calmly assured that no experience is on Earth as uplifting as being in the company of good friends.

Throw open the portals in your existence, just a bit, and welcome it inside.