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In a calm neighborhood of the Irish capital, an individual stands outside his home, sporting a vest and sharing his thoughts. “It seems like my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” says the main character, looking into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and at this point it seems if I don’t do something, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his only confidant, reflects on this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe moving gently. “Preferable to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone tired by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV terrain, the show arrives similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-episode program created by its authors, adapted from the novelist’s subtle book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing disapprovingly over its spectacles toward anything related to disturbances, quick actions or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The series is, instead, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage of those happy to amble along out of the spotlight. And yet. Leonard (another sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal by the actor) is uneasy. He notices a creeping “urge to throw open the openings within my world … a little.” The recent death of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now realizes doubting the choices that have brought him to this point (alone; with a protective mustache; creating a range of educational volumes for an employer who signs off correspondence saying “see you later”).

And so Leonard starts on a journey for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Paul (the actor) serving as his close companion, guide and ally during their regular gaming session functioning as both debate (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The source of the nickname is shrouded in history. Maybe Paul previously devoured some food in record time, or responded to a tense moment by nervously peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh spring-loaded associate who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the initial show of a series driven less by plot and centered around what the under-30s may refer to as “atmosphere”, we meet Paul's father (the brilliant the actor), a worn-out individual who privately views, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to dazzle his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Shepherding us amidst this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the star. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the presence of such a famous actor clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a diversion?” that's accurate. Still, the actress performs admirably, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is the missing an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. The series' spirit is in the right place: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, pointing out its favourite duck.” The program that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, occasionally down toward the ground, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as cheering as being in the company of good friends.

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