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In a peaceful suburb of the city, a man stands outside his home, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and sharing his feelings. “I feel myself getting quieter. Harder to see,” remarks the main character, staring up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and now I feel like if I don’t do something, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his only and only friend, reflects on the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his robe flapping with the wind. “Superior to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers tired by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of modern television terrain, this series steps in similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its gentle leads, the series – a six-part show written by its authors, inspired by Rónán Hession’s subtle book – takes a dim view on contemporary society; peering disapprovingly through its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to disturbances, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people content to pootle around below the parapet. However. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the doors and windows in my existence … slightly.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and this young man, a writer for others, now realizes doubting the choices that directed him to where he is (alone; with a protective mustache; working on several kids' reference books for a boss who ends messages with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard launches himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the performer) serving as his confidante, guide and partner during their regular board games evening which acts as debate (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The origin of this name seems forgotten in history. Maybe Paul once ate a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to a tense moment by nervously peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes Shelley (the actress), a fresh energetic colleague who cheerily offers to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the initial show of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what younger viewers might call “mood”, we meet the older generation (the brilliant the performer), a tired character who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to impress his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Shepherding us throughout this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Yes, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a distraction?” that's accurate. However, the actress performs admirably, and lines such as “The issue with Leonard is his absence of an expression of discovery” help ensure that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism at this time. The show's core is in the right place: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, showing its favourite duck.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward into space, occasionally down at its feet, quietly confident that there is nothing on Earth as uplifting as spending time in the company of dear pals.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, slightly, and allow it entry.