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In a quiet suburb of the city, an individual can be found in his driveway, dressed in a tank top and sharing his thoughts. “I feel my voice is fading. More invisible,” states Leonard, looking into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and at this point I believe unless I take action, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his only companion, ponders this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his bathrobe flapping in the breeze. “Superior to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For those tired by the bluster and fast pace of today’s TV landscape, the show arrives like a foil blanket and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment show created by its authors, based on Rónán Hession’s quiet story – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking disapprovingly through its spectacles at anything related to unnecessary noise, quick actions or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The program on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage to people happy to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. He (a further sublimely idiosyncratic turn from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the entryways within my world … slightly.” The loss of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and this young man, an anonymous author, now finds himself reconsidering the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (single; sporting facial hair; writing a range of children’s encyclopedias for a boss who ends emails with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard begins on a journey for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) acting as his close companion, guide and partner during their regular board games evening functioning as both symposium (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname is shrouded in history. Maybe the postal worker on one occasion consumed a sandwich unusually quickly, or responded to an awkward situation by nervously peeling some food items with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts Shelley (the actress), a new energetic colleague who cheerily offers to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In other scenes in the first episode of the comedy driven less by plot and more on what younger viewers might call “mood”, we are introduced to the older generation (the consistently great the actor), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches television game programs to amaze his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Leading viewers throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the star. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the presence of a big-name celebrity contradicts the program's low-key style and starts off as just a distraction?” you're right. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases such as “Leonard’s problem is his absence of a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings give way if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The show's core is in the right place: that place is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, showing the duck it loves.” The program that moves gently in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward into space, occasionally down at its slippers, calmly assured that no experience is on Earth as heartening as spending time in the company of good friends.

Throw open the portals of your life, slightly, and let it in.