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In a calm suburb of the Irish capital, a person is standing outside his home, wearing a tank top and expressing his concerns. “It seems like myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” remarks the main character, looking up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and currently it seems if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his only and only friend, considers these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his bathrobe moving with the wind. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers exhausted by the noise and fast pace of today’s TV landscape, the show comes as a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a six-episode show written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the author’s quiet book – takes a dim view toward today's world; gazing skeptically through its eyewear on everything in the way of unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. This show on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration of those content to amble along away from attention. And yet. He (another sublimely idiosyncratic turn from the star) is uneasy. He feels an increasing “need to open the openings in my existence … a little.” The passing of his parent has whisked the rug out from under him and Leonard, a ghost writer, now realizes questioning the decisions that have brought him to this point (single; sporting facial hair; working on multiple educational volumes for a man who ends messages saying “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard starts himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) functioning as his confidante, mentor and ally during their regular game night functioning as both symposium (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The beginning of this name is shrouded in mystery. It could be that the postal worker previously devoured a snack very fast, or responded to an awkward situation by hastily opening four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new lively associate who happily suggests to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the first episode of the comedy focused less on story and more on what the under-30s may refer to as “mood”, we meet Paul's father (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Leading us through all this minor-key niceness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “surely the presence of a major Hollywood star contradicts the program's low-key style and starts off as just an interruption?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases like “Leonard’s problem is the missing an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that early misgivings yield if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The show's core is in the right place: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its favourite duck.” The program that moves gently in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, quietly confident that there is nothing on Earth as cheering as passing time alongside good friends.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.