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In a calm suburb of the city, a person stands outside his home, sporting a vest and sharing his concerns. “I feel myself getting quieter. More invisible,” remarks Leonard, looking into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and now I feel like without a change, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his closest confidant, considers the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his dressing gown moving in the breeze. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and causing harm instead.”

For anyone weary by the chaos and constant stimulation of current streaming landscape, the show comes similar to a foil blanket and warming mug of Ribena.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a six-episode show developed by its authors, inspired by the author’s understated story – takes a dim view on contemporary society; gazing critically above its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything that involves disturbances, abrupt changes or – goodness forbid – excessive aspiration. This show is, instead, a tribute to quiet people; a subtle homage of those satisfied to pootle around below the parapet. But. He (one more uniquely quirky turn from the star) is uneasy. He feels a creeping “urge to throw open the doors and windows in my existence … just a bit.” The recent death of his mother has whisked the rug out from under him and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now feels doubting the paths that directed him to this point (single; with a protective mustache; writing several children’s encyclopedias for a boss who ends messages using the words “see you later”).

Thus Leonard launches on a journey for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (the performer) functioning as his trusted friend, life coach and co-conspirator during their regular game night that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The source of this name seems forgotten to the mists of time. Maybe he previously devoured a snack unusually quickly, or responded to a tense moment by hastily opening four scotch eggs with his teeth).

Into Leonard’s gentle world bursts a vibrant character (the performer), a recent energetic co-worker who cheerily offers to eliminate the awful manager (the character) in a workplace safety exercise. That whooshing sound audible represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes during the opening installment of a series driven less by plot and more on what the under-30s might call “mood”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a tired character who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to impress his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience through all this gentle kindness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Indeed, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “undoubtedly the inclusion of such a famous actor clashes with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as a distraction?” you're right. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases such as “The issue with Leonard is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that initial doubts yield if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism at this time. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: that place is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, showing its preferred bird.” The program that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring at the stars, at other times looking at its slippers, calmly assured that there is nothing in life as uplifting as being alongside dear pals.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, just a bit, and allow it entry.