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In a peaceful area of the Irish capital, an individual can be found in his driveway, wearing a sleeveless jumper and expressing his concerns. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says the protagonist, staring into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and now it seems without a change, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest companion, considers this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Better than striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For those tired by the chaos and fast pace of today’s TV offerings, the show steps in as a warm cover with a hot drink of Ribena.

Like its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-episode program developed by the writing duo, based on the author’s quiet book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking disapprovingly over its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to unnecessary noise, quick actions or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. This show is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage for those content to wander below the parapet. And yet. Leonard (another sublimely idiosyncratic performance from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He senses a growing “need to open the openings in my existence … slightly.” The passing of his parent has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now realizes questioning the paths which led him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; writing several children’s encyclopedias for a boss who signs off messages saying “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the performer) serving as his confidante, mentor and co-conspirator in a recurring game night which acts as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the nickname appears lost in history. It could be that Paul on one occasion consumed some food very fast, or responded to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (the performer), a fresh lively associate who happily suggests to kill the awful manager (the actor) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the first episode of a series not heavily plotted and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “mood”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Shepherding us throughout this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Yes, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “surely the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just an interruption?” that's accurate. However, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue such as “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” help ensure that early misgivings yield if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: the right place being “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its preferred bird.” This is a show that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, sometimes downward at its feet, quietly confident that no experience is on Earth as heartening as passing time in the company of good friends.

Throw open the portals of your life, just a bit, and let it in.