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In a peaceful neighborhood of the Irish capital, a man stands outside his home, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and sharing his feelings. “I feel myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” says the protagonist, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and currently it seems unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his robe swaying with the wind. “Better than striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone weary by the noise and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV offerings, the show arrives like a warm cover and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Like its harmless protagonists, the series – a half-dozen installment show created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the author’s subtle story – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking disapprovingly over its spectacles on everything related to unnecessary noise, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration to people satisfied to pootle around away from attention. However. Leonard (another distinctly original portrayal by the actor) is unsettled. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the entryways in my existence … slightly.” The loss of his mother has pulled the carpet away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now realizes reconsidering the choices which led him to this point (alone; sporting facial hair; working on multiple children’s encyclopedias for a boss who ends emails with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard starts on a journey to find happiness, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his close companion, guide and partner during their regular board games evening functioning as both discussion (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The beginning of the moniker is shrouded to the mists of time. Perhaps Paul previously devoured a snack in record time, or reacted to an awkward situation by panic-peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a new colleague (the actress), a recent energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) at a fire practice. The rushing noise noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the initial show of a series driven less by plot and more by what younger viewers could describe as “mood”, viewers encounter the older generation (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews trivia competitions to impress his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Leading us amidst this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the presence of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the show's modest approach and at first acts merely as a distraction?” that's accurate. However, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: which is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, showing its preferred bird.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, at times staring into space, occasionally down at its feet, calmly assured that no experience is in life as cheering as passing time with dear pals.

Throw open the portals of your life, just a bit, and let it in.