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In a calm neighborhood of the city, an individual can be found outside his home, sporting a sleeveless jumper and sharing his thoughts. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” says the main character, looking up at the night sky. “Circumstances have evolved and currently I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, reflects on the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his robe moving with the wind. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those weary by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of current streaming landscape, this series steps in similar to a cozy wrap and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

Similar to its quiet characters, this comedy – a six-part comedy developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, based on Rónán Hession’s subtle book – casts a critical eye at modern life; peering critically over its eyewear on everything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – excessive aspiration. The series is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration to people content to pootle around out of the spotlight. And yet. He (a further sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He notices a growing “urge to throw open the openings of my life … slightly.” The passing of his mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now feels questioning the choices that directed him to where he is (unattached; with a protective mustache; writing a range of educational volumes for a man who signs off correspondence using the words “ciao for now”).

Thus Leonard begins himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, with the slightly bolder Paul (the actor) functioning as his close companion, life coach and ally during their regular game night that serves both as discussion (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and refuge.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? The reason is unknown. The source of this name seems forgotten in mystery. It could be that he once ate some food very fast, or answered to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a vibrant character (the performer), a new spring-loaded co-worker who happily suggests to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) at a fire practice. That whooshing sound you can hear represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere during the opening installment of the comedy driven less by plot and more by what the under-30s may refer to as “vibes”, we meet the older generation (the consistently great the actor), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches television game programs to impress his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Guiding viewers amidst this gentle kindness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “certainly the use of a big-name celebrity contradicts the show's modest approach and starts off as just an interruption?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines like “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks a look of sudden insight” contribute to ensuring that first reservations yield if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism at this time. The show's core is well-intentioned: that place is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its favourite duck.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, occasionally down at its feet, quietly confident that no experience is in life as uplifting as spending time with dear pals.

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