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In a calm area of Dublin, a man can be found outside his home, dressed in a vest and sharing his feelings. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” remarks the protagonist, staring into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, ponders this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his robe swaying in the breeze. “Preferable to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For viewers weary by the bluster and constant stimulation of today’s TV offerings, the show comes as a cozy wrap with a hot drink of Ribena.

In line with its quiet characters, the series – a six-episode program written by its authors, adapted from the novelist’s subtle book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking skeptically through its eyewear at anything in the way of loud sounds, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – too much drive. This show is, instead, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute of those happy to amble along below the parapet. And yet. Leonard (another sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He feels a creeping “urge to throw open the doors and windows within my world … a little.” The recent death of his mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and this young man, a writer for others, now finds himself doubting the paths that have brought him to where he is (unattached; with a protective mustache; writing multiple educational volumes for a man who signs off emails saying “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard starts an exploration for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the actor) serving as his confidante, life coach and co-conspirator in a recurring board games evening that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The origin of this name seems forgotten in mystery. Perhaps Paul previously devoured some food in record time, or answered to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling some food items using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (the actress), a recent lively colleague who cheerily offers to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) at a fire practice. The rushing noise you can hear represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of the comedy driven less by plot and more by what a modern audience might call “mood”, we meet Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who secretly watches, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding the audience amidst this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “surely the presence of a big-name celebrity clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just an interruption?” you're right. However, the actress performs admirably, and phrases such as “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts yield if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its preferred bird.” This is a show that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, sometimes downward at its feet, quietly confident that there is nothing in the world as cheering as spending time with close companions.

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