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In a quiet suburb of the city, a man is standing outside his home, sporting a tank top and sharing his thoughts. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” remarks Leonard, gazing into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and now it seems without a change, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his bathrobe flapping in the breeze. “Better than trying to make a mark and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of current streaming terrain, the show steps in like a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-part show developed by the writing duo, inspired by the author’s subtle book – takes a dim view at modern life; gazing disapprovingly through its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything in the way of loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – too much drive. The program is, instead, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute for those happy to pootle around away from attention. However. Leonard (a further sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal by the actor) is uneasy. He feels a growing “need to open the doors and windows in my existence … slightly.” The passing of his mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now realizes doubting the choices which led him to this point (alone; with a protective mustache; creating multiple kids' reference books for a boss who signs off emails using the words “ciao for now”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (the actor) acting as his trusted friend, life coach and co-conspirator in a recurring board games evening that serves both as symposium (“Does the pool feel warm because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The origin of this name appears lost in mystery. Perhaps the postal worker on one occasion consumed some food very fast, or answered to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling several snacks with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts Shelley (the performer), a new lively co-worker who cheerily offers to eliminate his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) at a fire practice. The swift movement audible is Leonard’s gentle world undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy driven less by plot and more by what the under-30s could describe as “mood”, viewers encounter the older generation (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, saves and reviews trivia competitions to impress his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding us through all this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that is unmistakably – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the star. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star contradicts the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a distraction?” you're right. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue like “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” help ensure that initial doubts give way if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart is well-intentioned: which is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, pointing out its preferred bird.” The program that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward into space, occasionally down at its feet, serenely certain that there is nothing in the world as cheering as being in the company of dear pals.

Open the doors and windows within your world, a little, and allow it entry.