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In a calm area of Dublin, a man can be found outside his home, wearing a vest and voicing his feelings. “I notice my voice is fading. More invisible,” remarks the protagonist, looking up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his closest companion, considers the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his bathrobe swaying gently. “Better than attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For viewers tired by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of modern television offerings, the show arrives similar to a foil blanket with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a six-episode program written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the author’s subtle 2019 novel – takes a dim view on contemporary society; looking critically over its spectacles toward anything related to loud sounds, quick actions or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The series rather, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute for those content to amble along out of the spotlight. But. Leonard (another distinctly original performance by the actor) is uneasy. He notices an increasing “need to open the entryways in my existence … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels reconsidering the paths which led him to where he is (alone; defensively moustached; working on multiple children’s encyclopedias for an employer who ends messages saying “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard launches on a journey for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and co-conspirator during their regular gaming session that serves both as symposium (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname appears lost in history. Maybe he previously devoured a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by panic-peeling some food items by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes Shelley (the performer), a fresh spring-loaded co-worker who cheerily offers to eliminate the awful manager (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the initial show of a series focused less on story and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, saves and reviews television game programs to dazzle his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Shepherding viewers amidst this minor-key niceness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “surely the inclusion of a big-name celebrity contradicts the show's modest approach and starts off as just an interruption?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks an expression of discovery” help ensure that initial doubts yield if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism for now. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: the right place being “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out its favourite duck.” The program that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, at times staring into space, occasionally down toward the ground, quietly confident that there is nothing on Earth as heartening as passing time alongside good friends.

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