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In a peaceful neighborhood of the Irish capital, a person can be found outside his home, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and voicing his thoughts. “It seems like myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” says Leonard, looking into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and now it seems unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his closest companion, reflects on the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his robe moving gently. “Superior to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For those tired by the noise and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV offerings, the show steps in as a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

In line with its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part comedy created by the writing duo, based on Rónán Hession’s quiet 2019 novel – takes a dim view at modern life; gazing critically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything related to unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The program is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage of those happy to pootle around below the parapet. However. The character (another distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the doors and windows in my existence … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has whisked the rug out from under him and this young man, a ghost writer, now finds himself doubting the paths that have brought him to where he is (unattached; sporting facial hair; working on a range of educational volumes for a boss who ends emails with the phrase “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard begins himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the performer) serving as his close companion, mentor and co-conspirator during their regular game night functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The beginning of this name seems forgotten in history. Perhaps Paul previously devoured a snack unusually quickly, or responded to a tense moment by nervously peeling some food items by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes a new colleague (the actress), a new lively associate who happily suggests to eliminate the awful manager (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In other scenes in the initial show of this program focused less on story and more by what younger viewers may refer to as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the actor), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, records then replays daytime quiz shows to impress his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding the audience through all this minor-key niceness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “surely the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as an interruption?” you're right. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases such as “Leonard’s problem is his absence of a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that early misgivings yield though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The show's core is in the right place: the right place being “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, showing its preferred bird.” The program that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, at times staring into space, occasionally down at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is on Earth as uplifting as being with close companions.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, slightly, and let it in.