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In a calm suburb of Dublin, a man is standing on the pavement, sporting a vest and voicing his feelings. “I notice myself getting quieter. More invisible,” remarks Leonard, staring into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and at this point it seems unless I take action, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his closest companion, considers the idea. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown moving with the wind. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV terrain, this series comes like a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-episode program developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the author’s quiet 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; gazing skeptically through its spectacles at anything related to loud sounds, quick actions or – perish the thought – too much drive. The program is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those satisfied to wander below the parapet. And yet. The character (another sublimely idiosyncratic performance from the star) feels restless. He notices a growing “need to open the openings of my life … slightly.” The loss of his mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the decisions that have brought him to this point (alone; sporting facial hair; working on a range of children’s encyclopedias for an employer who signs off emails saying “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, life coach and ally in a recurring board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Is the pool warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The origin of the moniker seems forgotten to the mists of time. It could be that the postal worker previously devoured a sandwich unusually quickly, or responded to an awkward situation by panic-peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts a vibrant character (the actress), a fresh lively co-worker who happily suggests to kill the awful manager (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound you can hear is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the first episode of a series focused less on story and centered around what a modern audience might call “atmosphere”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, records then replays trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner using his trivia skills.

Leading us amidst this gentle kindness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the star. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the use of such a famous actor contradicts the program's low-key style and initially serves only as an interruption?” you would be correct. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue like “Leonard's challenge is the missing an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that first reservations fade if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: the right place being “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its preferred bird.” This is a show that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward into space, sometimes downward toward the ground, quietly confident that there is nothing in the world as cheering as spending time alongside dear pals.

Unlock the entryways within your world, slightly, and welcome it inside.