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In a calm area of Dublin, a man can be found on the pavement, wearing a vest and sharing his feelings. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” states the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I believe if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest companion, considers this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his bathrobe swaying in the breeze. “Better than striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For those exhausted by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of modern television landscape, the show arrives similar to a warm cover with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-part show developed by the writing duo, inspired by the novelist’s subtle story – takes a dim view on contemporary society; looking critically over its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything in the way of disturbances, quick actions or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The program is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute of those satisfied to wander away from attention. However. He (one more sublimely idiosyncratic performance from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He senses a creeping “need to open the doors and windows within my world … a little.” The recent death of his mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now realizes questioning the decisions that have brought him to this point (single; with a protective mustache; writing several kids' reference books for a boss who signs off emails with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard launches an exploration for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the performer) acting as his close companion, life coach and co-conspirator during their regular board games evening which acts as symposium (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The beginning of the moniker seems forgotten in history. Perhaps he once ate a snack in record time, or answered to a tense moment by panic-peeling some food items by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new energetic colleague who happily suggests to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the character) during the office fire drill. The swift movement noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the initial show of this program not heavily plotted and more on what the under-30s could describe as “mood”, we are introduced to the older generation (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Guiding viewers throughout this gentle kindness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, the star. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as an interruption?” that's accurate. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue such as “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts fade if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. The show's core is well-intentioned: the right place being “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its favourite duck.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, at times staring into space, at other times looking toward the ground, calmly assured that nothing is on Earth as cheering as spending time with good friends.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.