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In a quiet suburb of the Irish capital, a person can be found in his driveway, wearing a vest and voicing his concerns. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says the main character, looking toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and currently I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest and only friend, reflects on these words. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his bathrobe moving gently. “Better than striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of modern television landscape, the show arrives similar to a warm cover and warming mug of Ribena.

Similar to its quiet characters, this comedy – a half-dozen installment program created by its authors, based on Rónán Hession’s quiet story – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing skeptically above its spectacles at anything in the way of loud sounds, quick actions or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The series is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute for those content to pootle around below the parapet. And yet. The character (another sublimely idiosyncratic turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He senses a growing “need to open the doors and windows within my world … a little.” The loss of his beloved mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and this young man, a ghost writer, now finds himself reconsidering the decisions that have brought him to where he is (unattached; with a protective mustache; working on multiple educational volumes for an employer who concludes messages saying “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard begins himself on a quest to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his close companion, mentor and co-conspirator in a recurring game night which acts as symposium (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The beginning of the moniker seems forgotten to the mists of time. It could be that he once ate some food in record time, or answered to an awkward situation by nervously peeling some food items using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh lively colleague who happily suggests to eliminate the awful manager (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound audible is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part during the opening installment of this program focused less on story and more by what younger viewers might call “mood”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant the performer), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to amaze his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding the audience through all this gentle kindness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star contradicts the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a diversion?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue like “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings give way though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: the right place being “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, showing its favourite duck.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, at times staring at the stars, at other times looking toward the ground, serenely certain that no experience is on Earth as cheering as being in the company of dear pals.

Unlock the entryways within your world, slightly, and allow it entry.