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In a quiet area of Dublin, a person can be found on the pavement, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and sharing his feelings. “I feel I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says the main character, staring up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and now I believe if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, ponders these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his dressing gown flapping with the wind. “Better than trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those exhausted by the bluster and fast pace of today’s TV terrain, this series steps in similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a six-part program written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from Rónán Hession’s understated 2019 novel – takes a dim view toward today's world; looking skeptically above its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to disturbances, sudden movements or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. This show is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people satisfied to amble along below the parapet. And yet. The character (one more sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal by the actor) is unsettled. He notices a growing “need to open the openings within my world … slightly.” The recent death of his mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and Leonard, a ghost writer, now feels questioning the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (single; with a protective mustache; working on multiple kids' reference books for a boss who signs off correspondence saying “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard starts on a journey for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) acting as his confidante, guide and ally during their regular game night functioning as both symposium (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The beginning of this name seems forgotten in history. Perhaps he on one occasion consumed some food very fast, or answered to an awkward situation by nervously peeling several snacks by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new energetic co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement noticeable represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In another part during the opening installment of the comedy focused less on story and more by what the under-30s may refer to as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches television game programs to impress his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Guiding viewers through all this subtle warmth is a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the use of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” you're right. Still, the actress performs admirably, and phrases such as “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that first reservations yield though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. The show's core has good intentions: which is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its preferred bird.” The program that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, sometimes downward at its feet, serenely certain that nothing is on Earth as uplifting as being in the company of dear pals.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, a little, and let it in.