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In a quiet area of Dublin, a person is standing outside his home, dressed in a vest and sharing his feelings. “I notice my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” says the protagonist, looking toward the stars. “Circumstances have evolved and now I feel like unless I take action, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best confidant, reflects on the idea. “There's no harm in that,” he responds, his robe flapping in the breeze. “Preferable to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone tired by the noise and rat-tat-tat of current streaming offerings, this series comes like a cozy wrap and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-part comedy written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the novelist’s understated story – takes a dim view on contemporary society; peering skeptically through its eyewear toward anything in the way of loud sounds, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The program is, instead, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage for those content to pootle around out of the spotlight. And yet. The character (another distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He feels an increasing “urge to throw open the openings of my life … slightly.” The recent death of his mother has yanked the floor out from under him and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now finds himself doubting the decisions that have brought him to his current situation (alone; with a protective mustache; creating a range of children’s encyclopedias for an employer who concludes emails saying “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard launches himself on a quest to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his close companion, mentor and partner during their regular gaming session functioning as both discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the moniker is shrouded to the mists of time. Maybe the postal worker previously devoured a sandwich unusually quickly, or reacted to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world comes Shelley (the performer), a new energetic associate who happily suggests to get rid of the awful manager (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement audible represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the first episode of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what the under-30s might call “mood”, viewers encounter Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, saves and reviews television game programs to amaze his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Guiding viewers through all this gentle kindness is a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the star. If you are thinking, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a big-name celebrity contradicts the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as a distraction?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts does a good job, and phrases such as “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that first reservations give way if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. The show's core is in the right place: which is “resting on a bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, at other times looking at its slippers, quietly confident that there is nothing in the world as cheering as spending time in the company of close companions.

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