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In a quiet neighborhood of Dublin, an individual stands outside his home, sporting a sleeveless jumper and sharing his thoughts. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” states Leonard, looking up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and currently I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his only and only friend, reflects on these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his dressing gown flapping gently. “Superior to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers tired by the noise and rat-tat-tat of current streaming offerings, the show arrives as a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its quiet characters, the series – a six-episode comedy written by its authors, inspired by the novelist’s understated 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; gazing skeptically through its eyewear toward anything related to loud sounds, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – too much drive. This show rather, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute of those satisfied to amble along below the parapet. And yet. He (a further uniquely quirky turn from the star) is unsettled. He notices an increasing “desire to unlock the doors and windows within my world … just a bit.” The recent death of his mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now realizes reconsidering the choices which led him to where he is (alone; with a protective mustache; creating several kids' reference books for an employer who signs off correspondence with the phrase “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his close companion, guide and partner during their regular game night which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The source of the nickname is shrouded to the mists of time. Maybe he on one occasion consumed a sandwich unusually quickly, or answered to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling several snacks by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a new colleague (the actress), a fresh lively colleague who happily suggests to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the initial show of the comedy focused less on story and centered around what younger viewers might call “vibes”, viewers encounter the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, records then replays television game programs to impress his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience amidst this minor-key niceness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Truly, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “surely the use of such a famous actor clashes with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you're right. Still, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue such as “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining currently. The show's core has good intentions: the right place being “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its preferred bird.” The program that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, at other times looking at its slippers, quietly confident that there is nothing in life as heartening as being alongside good friends.

Throw open the portals of your life, just a bit, and allow it entry.