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In a peaceful suburb of the Irish capital, a person can be found outside his home, wearing a vest and expressing his concerns. “I notice my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” says the protagonist, staring up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and currently it seems unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his closest companion, considers these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his robe flapping gently. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone exhausted by the noise and rat-tat-tat of current streaming offerings, the show comes like a cozy wrap with a hot drink of Ribena.

Like its gentle leads, the series – a six-part program created by the writing duo, inspired by the author’s quiet book – takes a dim view at modern life; peering skeptically through its eyewear at anything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – goodness forbid – an abundance of ambition. This show is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute to people satisfied to wander out of the spotlight. And yet. He (another uniquely quirky turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He senses a growing “urge to throw open the entryways within my world … slightly.” The loss of his parent has yanked the floor from under his slippers and this young man, a writer for others, now finds himself questioning the paths which led him to where he is (unattached; sporting facial hair; creating a range of educational volumes for a boss who ends messages saying “goodbye for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins an exploration to find happiness, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (the actor) functioning as his trusted friend, guide and partner in a recurring game night functioning as both symposium (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The beginning of the moniker appears lost in history. It could be that he once ate a sandwich unusually quickly, or answered to an awkward situation by panic-peeling some food items using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new spring-loaded colleague who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

In another part in the initial show of this program not heavily plotted and more on what a modern audience may refer to as “atmosphere”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who privately views, tapes and rewatches television game programs to dazzle his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding viewers through all this subtle warmth there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – Julia Roberts. Truly, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “certainly the use of such a famous actor is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as an interruption?” that's accurate. However, the actress performs admirably, and phrases such as “Leonard's challenge is the missing an expression of discovery” help ensure that first reservations yield though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling currently. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench alongside similar shows, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up at the stars, at other times looking toward the ground, serenely certain that nothing is in the world as uplifting as spending time alongside dear pals.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.