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In a peaceful suburb of Dublin, an individual stands outside his home, dressed in a vest and sharing his feelings. “It seems like myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” states the main character, gazing into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point it seems without a change, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his closest and only friend, considers these words. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his bathrobe swaying with the wind. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers tired by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming offerings, this series comes as a warm cover with a hot drink of Ribena.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part show created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the novelist’s understated 2019 novel – takes a dim view on contemporary society; looking disapprovingly through its eyewear toward anything related to loud sounds, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – too much drive. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration to people happy to pootle around away from attention. But. He (another distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He notices a creeping “need to open the openings within my world … slightly.” The recent death of his mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the paths which led him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; writing a range of kids' reference books for an employer who signs off correspondence using the words “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard launches himself on a quest to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his close companion, guide and co-conspirator in a recurring board games evening that serves both as debate (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of this name appears lost in history. It could be that the postal worker on one occasion consumed a snack in record time, or responded to a tense moment by nervously peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a new colleague (the actress), a new energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the actor) at a fire practice. The rushing noise noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the initial show of a series driven less by plot and more by what younger viewers might call “mood”, we meet the older generation (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to dazzle his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding the audience through all this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue such as “Leonard’s problem is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that initial doubts fade though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. The show's core has good intentions: that place is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its favourite duck.” It’s a series that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, at other times looking at its feet, quietly confident that nothing is in life as uplifting as passing time alongside dear pals.

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