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In a peaceful suburb of the Irish capital, a person stands in his driveway, wearing a sleeveless jumper and expressing his feelings. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” remarks Leonard, staring up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and now I believe unless I take action, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his only and only friend, reflects on these words. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his bathrobe moving in the breeze. “Better than trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For those weary by the bluster and constant stimulation of modern television offerings, the show steps in as a cozy wrap with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Like its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-part program created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the author’s quiet book – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; peering disapprovingly through its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything that involves loud sounds, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration of those happy to amble along away from attention. And yet. Leonard (a further distinctly original performance from the star) feels restless. He senses an increasing “urge to throw open the openings in my existence … a little.” The loss of his mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, a writer for others, now realizes questioning the choices which led him to his current situation (single; sporting facial hair; working on a range of children’s encyclopedias for an employer who ends emails using the words “see you later”).

And so Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the actor) serving as his trusted friend, life coach and partner during their regular game night which acts as symposium (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The source of the moniker seems forgotten in history. Maybe he previously devoured some food very fast, or answered to an awkward situation by panic-peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound audible represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

In other scenes in the initial show of a series not heavily plotted and centered around what a modern audience may refer to as “vibes”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who secretly watches, records then replays television game programs to amaze his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Guiding viewers through all this subtle warmth is a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “surely the use of a big-name celebrity contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you would be correct. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines like “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts yield if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The show's core has good intentions: which is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, indicating its favourite duck.” This is a show that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring toward the sky, occasionally down at its feet, quietly confident that nothing is in the world as cheering as being with good friends.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, a little, and let it in.