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In a calm neighborhood of the Irish capital, an individual is standing outside his home, dressed in a tank top and voicing his thoughts. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says the main character, staring up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like if I don’t do something, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his closest confidant, reflects on these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his bathrobe swaying with the wind. “Superior to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV offerings, this series arrives as a warm cover and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Like its gentle leads, this comedy – a six-part comedy created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the novelist’s subtle 2019 novel – takes a dim view at modern life; gazing critically over its eyewear on everything that involves disturbances, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series rather, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those content to wander away from attention. But. Leonard (another distinctly original performance by the actor) is uneasy. He notices a creeping “need to open the entryways within my world … a little.” The loss of his mother has whisked the rug out from under him and this young man, a ghost writer, now realizes questioning the paths which led him to his current situation (single; sporting facial hair; writing multiple children’s encyclopedias for a boss who concludes emails using the words “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard begins on a journey for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his confidante, mentor and co-conspirator in a weekly game night that serves both as discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The source of the moniker seems forgotten to the mists of time. Perhaps the postal worker once ate some food unusually quickly, or responded to a tense moment by hastily opening some food items using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (the performer), a fresh lively co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) at a fire practice. The rushing noise you can hear represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the initial show of the comedy not heavily plotted and centered around what the under-30s may refer to as “vibes”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to impress his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Leading viewers throughout this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Truly, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “surely the use of a major Hollywood star clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” you're right. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines like “The issue with Leonard is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings yield if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: the right place being “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, indicating its preferred bird.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, at times staring into space, sometimes downward toward the ground, quietly confident that no experience is on Earth as cheering as passing time with close companions.

Open the doors and windows within your world, slightly, and let it in.