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In a peaceful area of Dublin, a person can be found on the pavement, wearing a tank top and expressing his thoughts. “I feel my voice is fading. Harder to see,” says the protagonist, staring up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and at this point I feel like unless I take action, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his closest companion, ponders this statement. “Nothing wrong with that,” he answers, his bathrobe moving gently. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For those exhausted by the bluster and fast pace of modern television terrain, this series comes similar to a warm cover and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-episode show created by the writing duo, adapted from Rónán Hession’s quiet 2019 novel – casts a critical eye toward today's world; looking skeptically through its spectacles on everything that involves disturbances, quick actions or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The series rather, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage to people content to pootle around out of the spotlight. But. The character (one more distinctly original performance from the star) is uneasy. He senses an increasing “urge to throw open the doors and windows within my world … a little.” The loss of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now realizes reconsidering the choices that have brought him to his current situation (single; sporting facial hair; creating multiple children’s encyclopedias for an employer who concludes emails saying “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard launches on a journey to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his close companion, life coach and co-conspirator during their regular game night that serves both as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The source of this name is shrouded to the mists of time. Perhaps the postal worker on one occasion consumed a sandwich in record time, or reacted to a tense moment by panic-peeling some food items using his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a new colleague (the actress), a recent lively colleague who cheerily offers to eliminate his terrible supervisor (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound you can hear represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In another part in the first episode of a series driven less by plot and more on what younger viewers could describe as “vibes”, viewers encounter the older generation (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who privately views, tapes and rewatches trivia competitions to dazzle his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Shepherding viewers amidst this subtle warmth is a narrator that is unmistakably – and truly is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “surely the use of such a famous actor clashes with the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a diversion?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue like “The issue with Leonard is the missing a look of sudden insight” help ensure that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

But that’s enough grumbling for now. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: that place is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, indicating its preferred bird.” This is a show that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking at its feet, calmly assured that there is nothing on Earth as heartening as being in the company of close companions.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, slightly, and let it in.