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In a peaceful area of the city, a man can be found on the pavement, wearing a sleeveless jumper and voicing his concerns. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says Leonard, gazing up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I believe without a change, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his closest and only friend, ponders the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his dressing gown flapping gently. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone tired by the bluster and constant stimulation of today’s TV offerings, the show arrives like a warm cover with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a half-dozen installment show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on Rónán Hession’s quiet story – takes a dim view at modern life; looking critically over its eyewear toward anything that involves disturbances, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage to people satisfied to wander away from attention. However. The character (one more uniquely quirky performance by the actor) is unsettled. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the entryways in my existence … just a bit.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and Leonard, a ghost writer, now realizes reconsidering the choices that have brought him to his current situation (single; defensively moustached; creating several kids' reference books for an employer who concludes correspondence with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard launches an exploration for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) acting as his confidante, life coach and ally during their regular game night which acts as debate (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname seems forgotten in history. It could be that he previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or reacted to an awkward situation by hastily opening four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels Shelley (the performer), a new energetic associate who cheerily offers to kill his terrible supervisor (the actor) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the initial show of this program not heavily plotted and centered around what the under-30s could describe as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to the older generation (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Leading us through all this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “surely the inclusion of such a famous actor clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as an interruption?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases like “Leonard’s problem is his absence of a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: that place is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, indicating the duck it loves.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up at the stars, at other times looking at its slippers, serenely certain that nothing is in life as cheering as spending time alongside dear pals.

Unlock the entryways within your world, slightly, and allow it entry.