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In a peaceful neighborhood of Dublin, a person stands in his driveway, dressed in a vest and expressing his concerns. “I notice my voice is fading. More invisible,” remarks the main character, looking toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and currently I believe without a change, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his only companion, considers the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his robe moving with the wind. “Superior to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers exhausted by the bluster and fast pace of today’s TV terrain, this series comes like a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its gentle leads, the series – a half-dozen installment program written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the author’s quiet book – casts a critical eye at modern life; peering disapprovingly over its spectacles toward anything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The program is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage for those satisfied to amble along away from attention. But. He (one more uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He notices an increasing “urge to throw open the entryways in my existence … slightly.” The loss of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and this young man, a writer for others, now feels questioning the choices that directed him to this point (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing several educational volumes for a boss who signs off messages with the phrase “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard launches on a journey for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) serving as his close companion, guide and ally during their regular gaming session functioning as both discussion (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe Paul previously devoured a sandwich in record time, or answered to an awkward situation by hastily opening four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a vibrant character (the actress), a fresh lively co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the first episode of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what younger viewers could describe as “mood”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to impress his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Shepherding us through all this gentle kindness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Yes, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the presence of such a famous actor contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” that's accurate. However, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue for example “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that early misgivings fade if not full admiration, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism currently. The series' spirit is in the right place: the right place being “located on a seat alongside similar shows, showing its favourite duck.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up into space, at other times looking toward the ground, quietly confident that no experience is in the world as cheering as being with dear pals.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.