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In a calm area of Dublin, a man stands outside his home, sporting a vest and sharing his thoughts. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” states the protagonist, staring toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and currently I believe unless I take action, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his only confidant, considers these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his bathrobe moving gently. “Preferable to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For those weary by the bluster and fast pace of today’s TV offerings, the show comes similar to a foil blanket with a hot drink of Ribena.

Similar to its quiet characters, the series – a six-part program written by its authors, based on the novelist’s understated story – casts a critical eye at modern life; peering skeptically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything that involves unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The program rather, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute to people happy to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. Leonard (a further uniquely quirky portrayal from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He senses an increasing “desire to unlock the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and this young man, an anonymous author, now realizes reconsidering the choices that have brought him to where he is (single; with a protective mustache; creating several children’s encyclopedias for an employer who concludes emails using the words “see you later”).

Thus Leonard begins on a journey for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) acting as his confidante, guide and co-conspirator in a weekly game night which acts as discussion (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The source of the moniker appears lost in history. It could be that Paul previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or reacted to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes a vibrant character (the actress), a recent spring-loaded associate who happily suggests to kill the awful manager (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In another part during the opening installment of this program focused less on story and more on what the under-30s may refer to as “vibes”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to impress his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Shepherding viewers amidst this minor-key niceness is a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts give way if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: which is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating the duck it loves.” The program that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring toward the sky, occasionally down at its feet, serenely certain that no experience is in the world as heartening as passing time in the company of dear pals.

Unlock the entryways within your world, just a bit, and let it in.