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In a peaceful area of Dublin, an individual stands outside his home, sporting a vest and sharing his feelings. “It seems like my voice is fading. More invisible,” says the main character, looking toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems without a change, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his closest and only friend, considers these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his robe flapping gently. “Superior to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For anyone tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of modern television landscape, the show arrives as a foil blanket and warming mug of Ribena.

In line with its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment show written by the writing duo, adapted from Rónán Hession’s quiet 2019 novel – casts a critical eye toward today's world; gazing disapprovingly through its eyewear at anything that involves loud sounds, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. This show on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute of those happy to wander out of the spotlight. But. Leonard (a further uniquely quirky portrayal from the star) is unsettled. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has yanked the floor out from under him and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels reconsidering the decisions that directed him to his current situation (single; with a protective mustache; creating multiple kids' reference books for an employer who ends emails saying “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard begins on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the performer) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and ally in a recurring board games evening which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The source of this name seems forgotten to the mists of time. Maybe the postal worker previously devoured a sandwich very fast, or responded to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of the awful manager (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the first episode of a series driven less by plot and more by what the under-30s may refer to as “atmosphere”, we meet Paul's father (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, saves and reviews television game programs to impress his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Shepherding viewers throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the star. In case you're considering, “surely the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you would be correct. However, Roberts does a good job, and lines like “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that early misgivings yield though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, showing its favourite duck.” The program that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, at other times looking toward the ground, calmly assured that there is nothing on Earth as cheering as being with good friends.

Throw open the portals within your world, just a bit, and welcome it inside.