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In a quiet area of Dublin, an individual is standing outside his home, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and expressing his thoughts. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says the protagonist, looking toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and now I feel like unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his closest confidant, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe flapping gently. “Preferable to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers exhausted by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of modern television offerings, the show steps in as a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Like its gentle leads, the series – a six-part comedy written by the writing duo, inspired by Rónán Hession’s understated story – takes a dim view toward today's world; gazing critically through its eyewear toward anything in the way of unnecessary noise, quick actions or – goodness forbid – too much drive. This show rather, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people happy to wander away from attention. But. He (another sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal by the actor) feels restless. He senses a creeping “need to open the entryways within my world … slightly.” The loss of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now finds himself questioning the decisions that directed him to this point (unattached; with a protective mustache; creating a range of educational volumes for a man who concludes emails with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing Paul (Laurie Kynaston) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and partner in a recurring board games evening which acts as symposium (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do kids pee in it since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The beginning of this name is shrouded in history. It could be that Paul once ate a snack unusually quickly, or answered to a tense moment by nervously peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new lively associate who happily suggests to kill the awful manager (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the initial show of this program driven less by plot and more by what a modern audience may refer to as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to the older generation (the ever-wonderful the actor), a tired character who secretly watches, saves and reviews television game programs to dazzle his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Guiding the audience amidst this gentle kindness there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and truly is – the famous actress. Yes, the star. In case you're considering, “surely the presence of a big-name celebrity is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and lines like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that first reservations give way if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism for now. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, pointing out its favourite duck.” The program that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, calmly assured that no experience is in the world as uplifting as passing time alongside good friends.

Open the doors and windows of your life, just a bit, and welcome it inside.