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In a quiet neighborhood of the city, a man can be found on the pavement, sporting a vest and sharing his thoughts. “I feel myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” remarks Leonard, staring toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point it seems if I don’t do something, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his dressing gown moving gently. “Better than trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those weary by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming offerings, this series steps in as a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its gentle leads, the series – a six-episode comedy created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from Rónán Hession’s quiet story – takes a dim view on contemporary society; gazing disapprovingly through its eyewear toward anything related to unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The program rather, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute for those content to pootle around below the parapet. But. The character (another uniquely quirky performance from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He feels an increasing “desire to unlock the doors and windows within my world … slightly.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now feels doubting the decisions that have brought him to where he is (single; with a protective mustache; creating a range of educational volumes for a man who concludes emails saying “see you later”).

Thus Leonard launches himself on a quest to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, guide and ally in a recurring gaming session which acts as debate (“Is the pool warm because kids pee in it, or do kids pee in it as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname is shrouded in mystery. Perhaps he on one occasion consumed a sandwich in record time, or responded to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a vibrant character (the performer), a recent lively colleague who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the actor) during the office fire drill. The swift movement you can hear represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In another part during the opening installment of this program driven less by plot and centered around what younger viewers might call “vibes”, we are introduced to the older generation (the ever-wonderful the actor), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays television game programs to amaze his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Shepherding viewers amidst this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “certainly the presence of a major Hollywood star clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you're right. Still, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue for example “Leonard’s problem is the missing a look of sudden insight” help ensure that initial doubts give way if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining for now. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: that place is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, indicating its favourite duck.” It’s a series that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, at times staring at the stars, occasionally down at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is in the world as cheering as passing time with good friends.

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