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In a calm suburb of the Irish capital, a man is standing outside his home, wearing a tank top and sharing his concerns. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” says the main character, looking toward the stars. “Events have unfolded and currently I feel like without a change, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, ponders these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his robe moving in the breeze. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers exhausted by the noise and constant stimulation of modern television offerings, the show comes like a warm cover with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Like its gentle leads, this comedy – a six-part program written by the writing duo, based on the author’s quiet 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; looking skeptically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything related to loud sounds, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute for those happy to wander out of the spotlight. However. He (one more uniquely quirky performance by the actor) is uneasy. He notices a creeping “urge to throw open the doors and windows in my existence … a little.” The recent death of his mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes doubting the decisions that directed him to where he is (single; with a protective mustache; working on a range of children’s encyclopedias for a man who signs off emails with the phrase “see you later”).

And so Leonard begins on a journey for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Paul (the performer) acting as his close companion, guide and co-conspirator in a weekly board games evening which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The beginning of this name seems forgotten in mystery. Perhaps Paul once ate some food unusually quickly, or answered to an awkward situation by panic-peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels Shelley (the actress), a fresh energetic colleague who lightheartedly proposes to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In another part during the opening installment of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what younger viewers might call “vibes”, we meet Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, records then replays television game programs to dazzle his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Guiding the audience amidst this minor-key niceness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” that's accurate. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines such as “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings fade if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining for now. The show's core is well-intentioned: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, showing its preferred bird.” The program that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward into space, at other times looking toward the ground, quietly confident that there is nothing on Earth as cheering as being in the company of good friends.

Throw open the portals of your life, slightly, and welcome it inside.