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In a quiet area of the city, a man is standing in his driveway, wearing a sleeveless jumper and voicing his concerns. “It seems like myself getting quieter. More invisible,” remarks Leonard, looking up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and at this point I believe if I don’t do something, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best companion, considers these words. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his dressing gown moving with the wind. “Superior to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone weary by the noise and constant stimulation of today’s TV offerings, the show steps in like a foil blanket and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Like its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a half-dozen installment program written by the writing duo, inspired by Rónán Hession’s quiet book – looks disapprovingly on contemporary society; looking critically above its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything in the way of disturbances, quick actions or – goodness forbid – too much drive. The program is, instead, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage of those content to wander below the parapet. However. Leonard (another sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from the star) feels restless. He senses an increasing “urge to throw open the openings of my life … just a bit.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and Leonard, a ghost writer, now realizes reconsidering the choices that directed him to where he is (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing multiple kids' reference books for a man who concludes messages saying “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard begins an exploration to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (the actor) serving as his trusted friend, guide and partner during their regular board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? It's unclear. The source of this name seems forgotten in mystery. Maybe Paul previously devoured a snack unusually quickly, or responded to an awkward situation by panic-peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new spring-loaded associate who happily suggests to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In another part in the first episode of a series focused less on story and more on what younger viewers could describe as “mood”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the consistently great the actor), a worn-out individual who privately views, records then replays television game programs to dazzle his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Guiding us amidst this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the star. In case you're considering, “certainly the use of a major Hollywood star clashes with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” that's accurate. However, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines such as “Leonard’s problem is the missing a look of sudden insight” help ensure that early misgivings yield if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: which is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out the duck it loves.” This is a show that moves gently in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up toward the sky, sometimes downward toward the ground, quietly confident that no experience is on Earth as uplifting as spending time alongside good friends.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.