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In a calm neighborhood of the Irish capital, a person can be found outside his home, wearing a sleeveless jumper and voicing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. More invisible,” remarks the protagonist, gazing into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and now it seems without a change, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, ponders this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Better than trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers exhausted by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of current streaming terrain, the show arrives similar to a warm cover with a hot drink of Ribena.

Similar to its gentle leads, this comedy – a six-episode comedy developed by its authors, adapted from the author’s understated story – takes a dim view on contemporary society; gazing skeptically over its eyewear at anything that involves disturbances, quick actions or – heaven forfend – too much drive. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage of those happy to pootle around out of the spotlight. And yet. Leonard (a further uniquely quirky turn from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He senses a creeping “need to open the doors and windows of my life … just a bit.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug from under his slippers and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels questioning the decisions that have brought him to where he is (single; sporting facial hair; creating a range of educational volumes for an employer who signs off emails using the words “see you later”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his close companion, life coach and partner in a recurring board games evening that serves both as debate (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The beginning of this name appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe he on one occasion consumed some food in record time, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling some food items with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes Shelley (the performer), a fresh lively associate who cheerily offers to eliminate the awful manager (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise audible is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In another part during the opening installment of the comedy not heavily plotted and more on what younger viewers could describe as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, tapes and rewatches television game programs to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Shepherding the audience amidst this subtle warmth is a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the famous actress. Indeed, the star. In case you're considering, “certainly the presence of a major Hollywood star contradicts the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you're right. However, Roberts does a good job, and lines such as “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” help ensure that early misgivings give way if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up into space, at other times looking toward the ground, calmly assured that no experience is in the world as uplifting as spending time in the company of dear pals.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and let it in.