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In a peaceful suburb of Dublin, a person can be found on the pavement, sporting a tank top and sharing his feelings. “It seems like myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” says Leonard, gazing into the darkness. “One thing’s led to another and currently I feel like without a change, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, Leonard’s best companion, ponders this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his dressing gown flapping with the wind. “Better than striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers weary by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming terrain, the show comes similar to a cozy wrap with a hot drink of Ribena.

In line with its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a half-dozen installment comedy written by the writing duo, based on the novelist’s understated story – casts a critical eye toward today's world; looking disapprovingly through its eyewear at anything that involves disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute to people satisfied to amble along away from attention. And yet. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic performance by the actor) is unsettled. He senses a creeping “need to open the openings within my world … a little.” The loss of his parent has yanked the floor out from under him and this young man, an anonymous author, now feels questioning the choices that have brought him to his current situation (single; defensively moustached; working on multiple kids' reference books for an employer who concludes emails with the phrase “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard launches an exploration for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) functioning as his confidante, life coach and ally during their regular game night which acts as debate (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The source of the moniker seems forgotten in history. Maybe he on one occasion consumed a sandwich in record time, or reacted to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling some food items using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of the awful manager (the actor) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and centered around what younger viewers might call “mood”, we are introduced to the older generation (the ever-wonderful the actor), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to amaze his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Leading the audience through all this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the star. Should you wonder, “certainly the use of such a famous actor contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a diversion?” you would be correct. However, Roberts does a good job, and lines like “Leonard’s problem is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that early misgivings fade if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The show's core is in the right place: the right place being “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, showing its preferred bird.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking at its feet, serenely certain that there is nothing in the world as uplifting as passing time with dear pals.

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