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In a quiet area of the Irish capital, an individual stands outside his home, sporting a tank top and sharing his concerns. “I notice myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” states the protagonist, looking toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his closest and only friend, considers these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his robe swaying in the breeze. “Superior to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone exhausted by the bluster and fast pace of current streaming offerings, the show comes like a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of a sweet cordial.

In line with its gentle leads, the series – a half-dozen installment program written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on Rónán Hession’s subtle 2019 novel – takes a dim view at modern life; peering critically through its spectacles toward anything in the way of loud sounds, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. This show is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute to people satisfied to pootle around below the parapet. And yet. He (a further sublimely idiosyncratic turn by the actor) is uneasy. He feels a creeping “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … just a bit.” The passing of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now feels questioning the decisions that have brought him to this point (single; defensively moustached; creating several kids' reference books for a man who signs off emails using the words “see you later”).

Thus Leonard starts an exploration for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his trusted friend, life coach and co-conspirator in a weekly gaming session that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The origin of the nickname seems forgotten to the mists of time. It could be that he once ate a sandwich very fast, or reacted to a tense moment by panic-peeling some food items by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels Shelley (the performer), a fresh spring-loaded co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The rushing noise audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of the comedy focused less on story and centered around what younger viewers could describe as “mood”, we meet Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches television game programs to amaze his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Shepherding viewers amidst this gentle kindness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “surely the use of a big-name celebrity clashes with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a diversion?” you would be correct. However, Roberts does a good job, and phrases such as “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a look of sudden insight” help ensure that first reservations fade though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, pointing out the duck it loves.” The program that moves gently in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up at the stars, sometimes downward at its feet, serenely certain that no experience is in life as cheering as spending time with dear pals.

Throw open the portals of your life, a little, and allow it entry.