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In a quiet suburb of the Irish capital, a man can be found in his driveway, dressed in a tank top and sharing his feelings. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says the protagonist, looking into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his closest and only friend, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his robe swaying in the breeze. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers exhausted by the bluster and fast pace of current streaming terrain, the show steps in like a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Like its gentle leads, this comedy – a six-part show written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the novelist’s understated story – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing disapprovingly above its eyewear on everything that involves loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The program is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration for those content to amble along out of the spotlight. However. He (one more distinctly original performance from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He notices a creeping “urge to throw open the openings within my world … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes doubting the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (single; sporting facial hair; creating a range of educational volumes for a boss who ends messages using the words “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard launches himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his close companion, life coach and ally in a recurring gaming session functioning as both symposium (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The source of the nickname appears lost in mystery. Perhaps the postal worker on one occasion consumed a snack in record time, or answered to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new spring-loaded associate who happily suggests to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) at a fire practice. The rushing noise noticeable represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the initial show of a series not heavily plotted and more on what a modern audience may refer to as “mood”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the brilliant the performer), a tired character who secretly watches, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to impress his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Shepherding viewers throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the star. Should you wonder, “certainly the inclusion of such a famous actor contradicts the program's low-key style and initially serves only as an interruption?” you would be correct. However, the actress performs admirably, and lines like “Leonard’s problem is the missing an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism at this time. The series' spirit is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, showing its preferred bird.” This is a show that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, at other times looking at its slippers, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as cheering as being alongside dear pals.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and let it in.