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In a quiet neighborhood of the Irish capital, an individual can be found outside his home, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and voicing his feelings. “I notice myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” says Leonard, gazing into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and now I believe if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his only and only friend, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Superior to trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone exhausted by the noise and constant stimulation of modern television offerings, this series arrives like a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part show created by its authors, adapted from the author’s understated story – casts a critical eye at modern life; peering disapprovingly over its eyewear at anything in the way of loud sounds, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The program rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage of those happy to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. The character (a further distinctly original portrayal by the actor) is unsettled. He senses an increasing “urge to throw open the openings in my existence … slightly.” The passing of his parent has whisked the rug out from under him and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (single; with a protective mustache; writing a range of kids' reference books for a boss who signs off messages using the words “see you later”).

Thus Leonard begins himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (the performer) serving as his close companion, life coach and partner in a weekly board games evening which acts as debate (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The source of this name appears lost in mystery. Perhaps the postal worker once ate a sandwich very fast, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling some food items using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a vibrant character (the performer), a fresh spring-loaded co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of the awful manager (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound noticeable represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the first episode of a series not heavily plotted and more by what younger viewers could describe as “vibes”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Guiding us through all this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Yes, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “surely the inclusion of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you would be correct. Still, the actress performs admirably, and phrases such as “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that early misgivings fade if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism currently. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: the right place being “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing the duck it loves.” This is a show that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, occasionally down at its slippers, quietly confident that there is nothing in life as heartening as passing time in the company of dear pals.

Open the doors and windows within your world, just a bit, and let it in.