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In a quiet neighborhood of the Irish capital, a person stands outside his home, dressed in a sleeveless jumper and expressing his feelings. “I notice my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” remarks the main character, looking into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and at this point it seems without a change, I will continue in this simple, peaceful routine.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, considers this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his bathrobe flapping in the breeze. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For those weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of current streaming offerings, the show steps in similar to a warm cover and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a half-dozen installment show created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from Rónán Hession’s quiet book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing skeptically over its spectacles on everything in the way of loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – too much drive. The program on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute of those happy to pootle around out of the spotlight. And yet. The character (one more sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from the star) is uneasy. He feels an increasing “desire to unlock the doors and windows of my life … slightly.” The recent death of his beloved mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and this young man, an anonymous author, now realizes reconsidering the paths that directed him to this point (single; defensively moustached; working on multiple children’s encyclopedias for a man who signs off messages with the phrase “see you later”).

Thus Leonard launches an exploration for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder friend Paul (the performer) acting as his trusted friend, mentor and co-conspirator during their regular game night which acts as debate (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do kids pee in it because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The origin of the nickname appears lost in history. Perhaps he previously devoured some food unusually quickly, or answered to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels Shelley (the actress), a fresh energetic co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate his terrible supervisor (the actor) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound you can hear signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of a series not heavily plotted and more by what younger viewers might call “vibes”, viewers encounter the older generation (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches daytime quiz shows to amaze his adoring wife through his fact recall.

Leading the audience throughout this gentle kindness is a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Indeed, the star. If you are thinking, “surely the use of a major Hollywood star clashes with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as a diversion?” that's accurate. Still, the actress performs admirably, and dialogue such as “The issue with Leonard is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then certainly understanding.

But that’s enough grumbling at this time. The series' spirit has good intentions: the right place being “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, indicating its preferred bird.” The program that strolls leisurely wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward toward the sky, at other times looking at its feet, quietly confident that nothing is in the world as uplifting as spending time in the company of dear pals.

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