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In a calm area of Dublin, a person stands on the pavement, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and sharing his thoughts. “I notice myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” remarks the main character, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I believe without a change, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, his closest and only friend, ponders these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his robe flapping gently. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers exhausted by the noise and fast pace of today’s TV terrain, this series steps in as a foil blanket and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its quiet characters, the series – a six-episode program written by the writing duo, inspired by the author’s subtle book – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; peering skeptically above its spectacles on everything related to unnecessary noise, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. This show rather, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration for those happy to pootle around below the parapet. But. Leonard (a further distinctly original portrayal from the star) is unsettled. He notices a growing “desire to unlock the openings within my world … just a bit.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, a writer for others, now finds himself questioning the decisions that directed him to his current situation (unattached; sporting facial hair; creating multiple children’s encyclopedias for an employer who signs off messages with the phrase “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard begins an exploration for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, guide and partner in a recurring gaming session which acts as debate (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The origin of this name seems forgotten to the mists of time. Perhaps he on one occasion consumed a sandwich very fast, or responded to a tense moment by nervously peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels Shelley (the actress), a new spring-loaded colleague who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of this program driven less by plot and more on what a modern audience could describe as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, saves and reviews television game programs to dazzle his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Guiding the audience throughout this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the star. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the presence of a major Hollywood star clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines such as “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that early misgivings give way though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: the right place being “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, indicating the duck it loves.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, at other times looking at its feet, serenely certain that there is nothing in life as heartening as spending time with close companions.

Unlock the entryways of your life, a little, and welcome it inside.