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In a quiet suburb of Dublin, an individual is standing on the pavement, wearing a vest and expressing his thoughts. “It seems like myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” states the main character, staring up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I believe if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his only confidant, ponders the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his dressing gown moving gently. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers exhausted by the noise and rat-tat-tat of modern television offerings, this series arrives as a foil blanket with a hot drink of Ribena.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-part comedy written by the writing duo, based on the author’s subtle story – takes a dim view at modern life; gazing disapprovingly above its spectacles on everything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. The program rather, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those satisfied to pootle around out of the spotlight. And yet. He (one more distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a creeping “need to open the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The loss of his parent has pulled the carpet out from under him and this young man, a ghost writer, now finds himself questioning the choices that directed him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; working on a range of children’s encyclopedias for an employer who signs off correspondence using the words “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the actor) acting as his confidante, life coach and ally in a weekly game night functioning as both debate (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The source of the moniker is shrouded in history. It could be that the postal worker previously devoured a snack in record time, or responded to a tense moment by nervously peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (the actress), a recent energetic colleague who cheerily offers to get rid of the awful manager (the actor) during the office fire drill. The swift movement audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the first episode of the comedy focused less on story and centered around what a modern audience might call “mood”, viewers encounter the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, records then replays television game programs to impress his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Leading viewers through all this gentle kindness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the star. If you are thinking, “surely the inclusion of a major Hollywood star contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” you're right. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue for example “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The series' spirit is in the right place: which is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, sometimes downward at its feet, calmly assured that no experience is in life as uplifting as passing time alongside good friends.

Open the doors and windows within your world, a little, and allow it entry.