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In a quiet neighborhood of the Irish capital, a person can be found outside his home, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and expressing his thoughts. “I feel my voice is fading. Harder to see,” says the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I believe without a change, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his only companion, considers this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown flapping in the breeze. “Superior to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For viewers weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of modern television terrain, this series comes similar to a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Like its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part show written by its authors, adapted from the author’s understated story – takes a dim view toward today's world; looking skeptically through its spectacles at anything in the way of loud sounds, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. This show rather, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration of those content to wander out of the spotlight. But. He (one more distinctly original performance from the star) is uneasy. He feels a growing “urge to throw open the openings of my life … slightly.” The loss of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes questioning the decisions that directed him to where he is (unattached; defensively moustached; working on several educational volumes for a man who concludes messages using the words “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard starts on a journey for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the actor) acting as his close companion, mentor and ally during their regular game night that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the moniker appears lost in mystery. Perhaps he once ate some food unusually quickly, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life comes Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh lively colleague who cheerily offers to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The swift movement audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the first episode of the comedy focused less on story and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “vibes”, we meet the older generation (the brilliant the performer), a tired character who covertly observes, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding viewers amidst this minor-key niceness is a narrator who closely resembles – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you're right. However, the actress performs admirably, and phrases like “Leonard’s problem is his absence of an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that initial doubts give way if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining for now. The series' spirit has good intentions: the right place being “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing the duck it loves.” It’s a series that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, occasionally down at its feet, calmly assured that there is nothing in the world as uplifting as being alongside good friends.

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