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In a peaceful neighborhood of the city, a man stands in his driveway, dressed in a vest and voicing his thoughts. “I notice myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” remarks the protagonist, gazing up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and at this point it seems unless I take action, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his only and only friend, considers the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his dressing gown moving in the breeze. “Superior to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For anyone tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of modern television offerings, the show comes as a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-episode show written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on Rónán Hession’s subtle book – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; looking disapprovingly over its prematurely middle-aged glasses on everything that involves unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The series is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people happy to wander away from attention. And yet. The character (a further uniquely quirky turn by the actor) is unsettled. He feels a creeping “need to open the doors and windows within my world … slightly.” The passing of his beloved mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels reconsidering the paths that directed him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; writing a range of educational volumes for a boss who signs off correspondence saying “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard launches an exploration for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, life coach and partner in a weekly gaming session functioning as both symposium (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The source of this name appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe he previously devoured a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by hastily opening four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a vibrant character (the actress), a new energetic colleague who cheerily offers to kill his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. The swift movement you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of this program not heavily plotted and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “mood”, we are introduced to the older generation (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Leading viewers amidst this gentle kindness is a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “certainly the use of such a famous actor contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a diversion?” that's accurate. However, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of an expression of discovery” help ensure that initial doubts give way if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: which is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its favourite duck.” It’s a series that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, occasionally down at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is in life as heartening as spending time in the company of close companions.

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