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In a peaceful suburb of the city, a man stands in his driveway, wearing a sleeveless jumper and voicing his thoughts. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says Leonard, looking toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and now I feel like unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, Leonard’s best companion, considers this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his bathrobe swaying in the breeze. “Preferable to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For viewers weary by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV landscape, the show steps in like a foil blanket and warming mug of a sweet cordial.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part program developed by its authors, adapted from Rónán Hession’s subtle book – casts a critical eye at modern life; peering disapprovingly above its eyewear at anything related to unnecessary noise, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a subtle homage of those content to wander below the parapet. And yet. He (another sublimely idiosyncratic turn by the actor) is unsettled. He notices an increasing “urge to throw open the entryways in my existence … a little.” The passing of his mother has whisked the rug from under his slippers and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now finds himself doubting the decisions that directed him to where he is (unattached; sporting facial hair; writing multiple educational volumes for an employer who ends correspondence using the words “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard starts an exploration for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his close companion, mentor and ally in a weekly board games evening which acts as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(Why “Hungry” Paul? No idea. The beginning of the moniker seems forgotten to the mists of time. It could be that Paul previously devoured a snack very fast, or responded to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening some food items using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life cartwheels Shelley (the actress), a recent spring-loaded colleague who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of his terrible supervisor (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement audible signals Leonard's peaceful routine undergoing a shake-up.

In another part in the initial show of this program focused less on story and more on what the under-30s could describe as “vibes”, we meet Hungry Paul’s dad (the ever-wonderful the actor), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews trivia competitions to dazzle his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Guiding us through all this subtle warmth we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, the star. In case you're considering, “surely the presence of a major Hollywood star contradicts the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a diversion?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines for example “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that first reservations yield though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. Leonard and Hungry Paul’s heart has good intentions: which is “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, pointing out the duck it loves.” This is a show that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, occasionally looking up into space, at other times looking at its feet, serenely certain that no experience is in life as uplifting as passing time alongside good friends.

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