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In a quiet suburb of the Irish capital, a man stands in his driveway, wearing a vest and voicing his concerns. “It seems like myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” says Leonard, gazing toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, ponders these words. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his bathrobe moving with the wind. “Superior to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of current streaming terrain, this series steps in like a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-episode comedy written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by Rónán Hession’s understated 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; looking skeptically above its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything related to loud sounds, quick actions or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage to people content to wander below the parapet. But. He (one more sublimely idiosyncratic performance by the actor) feels restless. He feels a creeping “urge to throw open the openings within my world … slightly.” The passing of his beloved mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and this young man, an anonymous author, now realizes doubting the choices that have brought him to his current situation (single; with a protective mustache; working on multiple kids' reference books for a boss who signs off correspondence saying “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard starts an exploration to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Paul (the performer) acting as his confidante, life coach and co-conspirator in a weekly board games evening which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe Paul previously devoured some food unusually quickly, or answered to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to kill the awful manager (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The rushing noise you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In another part during the opening installment of a series focused less on story and centered around what a modern audience might call “mood”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the performer), a tired character who secretly watches, records then replays trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Guiding the audience throughout this subtle warmth we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the star. In case you're considering, “certainly the inclusion of such a famous actor clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a distraction?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts does a good job, and phrases for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that initial doubts give way if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism currently. The show's core is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its preferred bird.” This is a show that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, occasionally down toward the ground, quietly confident that nothing is on Earth as uplifting as being alongside close companions.

Open the doors and windows within your world, just a bit, and allow it entry.