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In a quiet area of Dublin, an individual is standing outside his home, wearing a sleeveless jumper and sharing his concerns. “I notice myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” states the protagonist, looking up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and now it seems unless I take action, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his only and only friend, ponders these words. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his dressing gown flapping with the wind. “Better than striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and fast pace of modern television landscape, the show comes like a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Like its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part comedy created by its authors, based on the author’s understated story – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; peering disapprovingly over its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything in the way of unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. This show on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration to people happy to pootle around away from attention. However. Leonard (another uniquely quirky turn from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a growing “need to open the entryways within my world … a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now realizes reconsidering the paths which led him to his current situation (single; sporting facial hair; working on several educational volumes for a boss who ends correspondence with the phrase “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard launches an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the actor) serving as his close companion, guide and ally during their regular board games evening which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The origin of the nickname is shrouded to the mists of time. It could be that Paul previously devoured a sandwich very fast, or answered to a tense moment by hastily opening some food items using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts Shelley (the actress), a fresh lively co-worker who happily suggests to eliminate his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise audible is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes during the opening installment of a series focused less on story and more on what a modern audience might call “vibes”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant the performer), a tired character who privately views, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to impress his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Leading viewers throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Indeed, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a distraction?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue like “The issue with Leonard is the missing an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: the right place being “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, showing the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, at times staring toward the sky, occasionally down at its feet, serenely certain that no experience is in the world as cheering as spending time in the company of close companions.

Open the doors and windows within your world, a little, and let it in.