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In a calm area of Dublin, a man is standing on the pavement, dressed in a tank top and voicing his concerns. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” remarks the protagonist, looking up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest and only friend, ponders this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his bathrobe moving gently. “Better than trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming landscape, this series arrives like a foil blanket and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its gentle leads, this comedy – a half-dozen installment program created by the writing duo, based on Rónán Hession’s subtle 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; looking critically through its spectacles on everything related to loud sounds, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The series is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage for those happy to wander away from attention. And yet. He (a further uniquely quirky turn from the star) is unsettled. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … just a bit.” The passing of his beloved mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, an anonymous author, now realizes doubting the decisions that directed him to where he is (alone; sporting facial hair; writing several educational volumes for an employer who concludes messages with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the performer) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and co-conspirator during their regular board games evening functioning as both debate (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The source of this name appears lost to the mists of time. It could be that he on one occasion consumed some food very fast, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new spring-loaded colleague who cheerily offers to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the character) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In other scenes in the first episode of this program not heavily plotted and more by what a modern audience might call “atmosphere”, viewers encounter the older generation (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, saves and reviews trivia competitions to amaze his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding viewers throughout this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Truly, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the use of a big-name celebrity clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you're right. Still, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue for example “Leonard's challenge is his absence of an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its preferred bird.” The program that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, serenely certain that nothing is in life as uplifting as spending time alongside dear pals.

Throw open the portals in your existence, just a bit, and welcome it inside.