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In a quiet area of Dublin, an individual can be found outside his home, sporting a tank top and voicing his thoughts. “I notice myself getting quieter. More invisible,” remarks the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and now I believe unless I take action, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his only and only friend, considers this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his bathrobe moving with the wind. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone weary by the noise and constant stimulation of today’s TV terrain, this series comes like a cozy wrap with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Like its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-part comedy written by its authors, based on the novelist’s understated 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly at modern life; peering skeptically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything in the way of disturbances, quick actions or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. The series is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people satisfied to pootle around away from attention. However. He (another uniquely quirky portrayal from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He notices an increasing “desire to unlock the entryways within my world … a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and Leonard, a ghost writer, now realizes reconsidering the paths that directed him to this point (unattached; with a protective mustache; working on multiple kids' reference books for an employer who ends emails using the words “see you later”).

And so Leonard begins on a journey to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, mentor and partner in a weekly board games evening functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the nickname appears lost in mystery. It could be that he previously devoured a snack very fast, or reacted to an awkward situation by panic-peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a new colleague (the actress), a fresh energetic co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to kill his terrible supervisor (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the initial show of a series driven less by plot and more by what a modern audience may refer to as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter the older generation (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays television game programs to amaze his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding us throughout this gentle kindness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “surely the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as an interruption?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue such as “Leonard’s problem is the missing a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts yield if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: that place is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, showing the duck it loves.” The program that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward into space, sometimes downward toward the ground, calmly assured that there is nothing in life as uplifting as spending time in the company of dear pals.

Unlock the entryways within your world, slightly, and allow it entry.