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In a peaceful suburb of Dublin, a person can be found outside his home, sporting a sleeveless jumper and voicing his thoughts. “I feel my voice is fading. Harder to see,” remarks Leonard, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I believe without a change, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, considers the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown moving in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers exhausted by the noise and constant stimulation of today’s TV terrain, this series comes like a foil blanket with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-episode comedy developed by the writing duo, inspired by the author’s subtle book – takes a dim view on contemporary society; peering critically over its spectacles on everything that involves unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – too much drive. This show is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage for those content to amble along away from attention. However. He (another uniquely quirky portrayal from the star) is uneasy. He senses an increasing “urge to throw open the openings of my life … just a bit.” The loss of his parent has whisked the rug from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes questioning the choices that have brought him to his current situation (single; defensively moustached; working on a range of kids' reference books for a man who concludes correspondence using the words “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard starts himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his trusted friend, guide and ally in a recurring board games evening functioning as both debate (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The beginning of the moniker appears lost in history. Perhaps Paul previously devoured a sandwich very fast, or responded to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to kill his terrible supervisor (the actor) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise audible represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the initial show of a series driven less by plot and more on what the under-30s could describe as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great the actor), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, records then replays trivia competitions to amaze his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Leading viewers through all this minor-key niceness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Indeed, the star. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of such a famous actor clashes with the program's low-key style and starts off as just a distraction?” that's accurate. However, Roberts does a good job, and phrases such as “Leonard’s problem is the missing an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that first reservations fade if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit has good intentions: the right place being “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its preferred bird.” The program that moves gently in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is in life as heartening as spending time alongside close companions.

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