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In a peaceful suburb of the Irish capital, a person is standing outside his home, wearing a vest and sharing his concerns. “It seems like my voice is fading. Harder to see,” remarks the protagonist, gazing into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Preferable to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For those tired by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of modern television landscape, this series arrives similar to a foil blanket with a hot drink of Ribena.

Like its gentle leads, this comedy – a six-episode show written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the novelist’s understated book – casts a critical eye toward today's world; looking critically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – perish the thought – too much drive. The program is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage of those content to wander below the parapet. However. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic performance from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices an increasing “urge to throw open the doors and windows in my existence … slightly.” The recent death of his parent has pulled the carpet away from his feet and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now finds himself doubting the decisions that directed him to this point (alone; sporting facial hair; working on a range of educational volumes for a man who signs off emails using the words “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard begins on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his close companion, guide and partner in a recurring board games evening that serves both as discussion (“Is the water heated 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 moniker seems forgotten in history. It could be that Paul previously devoured a sandwich unusually quickly, or responded to an awkward situation by nervously peeling some food items by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a recent spring-loaded co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of the awful manager (the character) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and centered around what the under-30s could describe as “vibes”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great the actor), a tired character who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience amidst this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and truly is – the famous actress. Yes, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “surely the use of such a famous actor contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a diversion?” you're right. However, Roberts does a good job, and lines like “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks an expression of discovery” help ensure that first reservations give way though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. The series' spirit is in the right place: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its preferred bird.” The program that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up into space, occasionally down toward the ground, serenely certain that nothing is in life as cheering as spending time in the company of close companions.

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