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In a calm neighborhood of the Irish capital, a person stands outside his home, sporting a tank top and voicing his concerns. “It seems like my voice is fading. Harder to see,” says the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems if I don’t do something, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, reflects on this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe flapping in the breeze. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For those exhausted by the bluster and fast pace of modern television landscape, the show steps in like a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

In line with its gentle leads, the series – a half-dozen installment program developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by Rónán Hession’s quiet 2019 novel – takes a dim view on contemporary society; peering skeptically above its eyewear on everything in the way of loud sounds, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage to people satisfied to amble along away from attention. But. He (a further uniquely quirky turn by the actor) is unsettled. He senses a growing “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … just a bit.” The recent death of his beloved mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and Leonard, a writer for others, now realizes doubting the paths that have brought him to his current situation (unattached; with a protective mustache; creating multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who ends emails with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard starts himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the performer) serving as his close companion, mentor and co-conspirator in a recurring board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The origin of the moniker seems forgotten in history. Maybe Paul on one occasion consumed a sandwich unusually quickly, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a vibrant character (the performer), a fresh lively colleague who cheerily offers to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In other scenes in the initial show of the comedy driven less by plot and more by what a modern audience might call “vibes”, we meet Paul's father (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who secretly watches, saves and reviews trivia competitions to amaze his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Shepherding viewers through all this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the use of a big-name celebrity contradicts the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you would be correct. However, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue such as “Leonard's challenge is the missing an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that first reservations fade though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: the right place being “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, indicating the duck it loves.” It’s a series that ambles along in comfortable attire, at times staring at the stars, sometimes downward toward the ground, serenely certain that no experience is in life as heartening as spending time with dear pals.

Throw open the portals within your world, slightly, and welcome it inside.