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In a quiet suburb of Dublin, a person stands in his driveway, sporting a tank top and expressing his feelings. “I notice myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” says the protagonist, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and now it seems if I don’t do something, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his closest companion, ponders this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his dressing gown flapping in the breeze. “Superior to trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers weary by the bluster and constant stimulation of current streaming landscape, this series arrives like a foil blanket and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a half-dozen installment program created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by Rónán Hession’s quiet book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking disapprovingly through its spectacles at anything that involves disturbances, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – too much drive. The series on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration for those satisfied to pootle around below the parapet. However. He (another sublimely idiosyncratic turn by the actor) feels restless. He senses an increasing “need to open the openings in my existence … just a bit.” The passing of his parent has whisked the rug out from under him and this young man, a writer for others, now realizes doubting the decisions which led him to this point (alone; sporting facial hair; writing several kids' reference books for a boss who ends correspondence saying “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard launches himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his close companion, mentor and partner during their regular gaming session that serves both as debate (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of this name appears lost in mystery. It could be that the postal worker on one occasion consumed a snack very fast, or answered to a tense moment by hastily opening some food items by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new spring-loaded co-worker who happily suggests to kill his terrible supervisor (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of a series driven less by plot and centered around what younger viewers may refer to as “vibes”, we meet Paul's father (the brilliant the performer), a tired character who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches television game programs to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Leading the audience amidst this subtle warmth is a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the inclusion of such a famous actor is at odds with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a diversion?” you would be correct. However, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue like “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that initial doubts yield if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining currently. The series' spirit has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its favourite duck.” The program that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, sometimes gazing upward into space, sometimes downward at its slippers, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as uplifting as spending time in the company of close companions.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and let it in.