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In a peaceful suburb of Dublin, a man stands in his driveway, sporting a vest and voicing his concerns. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” states the main character, looking up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and currently I believe if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his closest companion, considers the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he replies, his bathrobe moving in the breeze. “Superior to trying to make a mark only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers tired by the noise and constant stimulation of current streaming landscape, the show comes as a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Like its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-episode comedy created by the writing duo, adapted from the author’s understated 2019 novel – casts a critical eye at modern life; looking disapprovingly through its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything that involves unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. The program rather, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration of those happy to wander below the parapet. And yet. He (a further distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He feels an increasing “desire to unlock the entryways in my existence … slightly.” The passing of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and Leonard, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (single; with a protective mustache; creating several children’s encyclopedias for a boss who ends emails using the words “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the performer) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and ally in a recurring gaming session that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The source of this name appears lost in mystery. It could be that he previously devoured some food very fast, or answered to a tense moment by panic-peeling some food items using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a new colleague (the performer), a fresh spring-loaded co-worker who cheerily offers to get rid of the awful manager (the actor) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound audible is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what a modern audience may refer to as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who privately views, saves and reviews television game programs to impress his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience throughout this subtle warmth is a narrator that sounds very much like – and truly is – Julia Roberts. Yes, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “certainly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a diversion?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and lines like “Leonard's challenge is the missing a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings give way if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: the right place being “located on a seat alongside similar shows, showing its preferred bird.” This is a show that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up at the stars, at other times looking at its feet, serenely certain that nothing is on Earth as heartening as passing time in the company of dear pals.

Throw open the portals of your life, a little, and let it in.