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In a quiet suburb of Dublin, a person stands in his driveway, wearing a sleeveless jumper and expressing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. Harder to see,” remarks the main character, staring toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his only confidant, ponders these words. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his robe moving in the breeze. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and fast pace of modern television offerings, this series comes similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Like its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-episode program created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the novelist’s understated 2019 novel – casts a critical eye toward today's world; looking critically through its eyewear at anything that involves loud sounds, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The program rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage to people content to pootle around away from attention. And yet. He (another distinctly original performance from the star) is unsettled. He senses a creeping “need to open the doors and windows within my world … a little.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now feels doubting the paths which led him to this point (alone; with a protective mustache; writing several kids' reference books for a man who signs off correspondence using the words “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard begins an exploration for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the performer) functioning as his close companion, guide and co-conspirator in a recurring game night functioning as both symposium (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The origin of this name appears lost to the mists of time. Perhaps Paul once ate some food in record time, or responded to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes a new colleague (the actress), a new lively associate who happily suggests to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy focused less on story and centered around what a modern audience might call “vibes”, we meet Paul's father (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who covertly observes, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to impress his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Shepherding us through all this minor-key niceness is a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – the famous actress. Truly, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “surely the use of such a famous actor clashes with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a distraction?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases such as “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that early misgivings give way though not complete approval, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out the duck it loves.” This is a show that ambles along in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward at its feet, serenely certain that there is nothing in the world as uplifting as being with good friends.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.