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In a peaceful area of Dublin, an individual can be found in his driveway, dressed in a vest and sharing his feelings. “It seems like myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” says Leonard, staring toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and currently I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, considers this statement. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his bathrobe swaying gently. “Better than trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers weary by the bluster and constant stimulation of modern television landscape, this series arrives similar to a cozy wrap with a hot drink of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its gentle leads, the series – a six-part show created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on the author’s understated 2019 novel – takes a dim view on contemporary society; peering skeptically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything in the way of disturbances, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. This show on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration for those satisfied to wander away from attention. And yet. The character (a further uniquely quirky portrayal from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He feels an increasing “urge to throw open the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The loss of his parent has yanked the floor away from his feet and Leonard, a writer for others, now finds himself questioning the paths which led him to this point (single; sporting facial hair; writing a range of educational volumes for a man who ends correspondence saying “see you later”).

And so Leonard begins on a journey for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (the performer) acting as his close companion, mentor and ally in a weekly gaming session which acts as symposium (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The origin of the nickname is shrouded in history. It could be that Paul on one occasion consumed a sandwich very fast, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling several snacks by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels Shelley (the actress), a new lively colleague who happily suggests to get rid of the awful manager (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise you can hear represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of this program focused less on story and more by what a modern audience could describe as “vibes”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who covertly observes, records then replays television game programs to dazzle his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Shepherding viewers throughout this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the presence of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a diversion?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts does a good job, and lines like “The issue with Leonard is the missing an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that initial doubts give way if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining for now. The show's core is well-intentioned: the right place being “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, pointing out the duck it loves.” This is a show that ambles along in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up at the stars, sometimes downward at its feet, calmly assured that nothing is on Earth as uplifting as being with close companions.

Throw open the portals within your world, slightly, and let it in.