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In a calm suburb of the city, a man stands in his driveway, wearing a tank top and sharing his feelings. “I notice myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” remarks the main character, gazing up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and now I believe without a change, I will continue in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his closest confidant, ponders these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he replies, his dressing gown flapping gently. “Preferable to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For viewers exhausted by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of modern television landscape, this series comes as a warm cover and warming mug of Ribena.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment program developed by the writing duo, based on Rónán Hession’s understated book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking critically over its spectacles toward anything related to unnecessary noise, abrupt changes or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The program on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage for those happy to amble along below the parapet. But. He (a further distinctly original turn from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He feels a growing “urge to throw open the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The recent death of his parent has whisked the rug away from his feet and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels questioning the decisions which led him to where he is (single; defensively moustached; working on a range of children’s encyclopedias for an employer who signs off emails with the phrase “see you later”).

Therefore Leonard begins on a journey for personal satisfaction, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his confidante, life coach and partner during their regular gaming session that serves both as debate (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of the nickname appears lost to the mists of time. Maybe Paul once ate a sandwich unusually quickly, or responded to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts a new colleague (the performer), a new lively co-worker who happily suggests to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement you can hear represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the first episode of the comedy not heavily plotted and more on what the under-30s could describe as “vibes”, viewers encounter the older generation (the consistently great the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Shepherding viewers throughout this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, Julia Roberts. In case you're considering, “surely the use of a major Hollywood star clashes with the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you're right. However, Roberts does a good job, and phrases like “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that initial doubts fade though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is in the right place: that place is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, showing its favourite duck.” It’s a series that moves gently in comfortable attire, at times staring at the stars, sometimes downward at its feet, serenely certain that no experience is on Earth as uplifting as spending time in the company of good friends.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and allow it entry.