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In a calm neighborhood of the Irish capital, a person can be found outside his home, sporting a tank top and voicing his thoughts. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” says the main character, looking up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and currently it seems if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his only confidant, ponders these words. “Nothing wrong with that,” he responds, his bathrobe swaying gently. “Superior to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For viewers exhausted by the chaos and rat-tat-tat of today’s TV offerings, this series steps in like a warm cover and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its gentle leads, the series – a six-part comedy created by its authors, based on Rónán Hession’s quiet story – looks disapprovingly at modern life; gazing skeptically over its spectacles toward anything that involves loud sounds, sudden movements or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The series on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a subtle homage to people content to pootle around away from attention. But. He (a further sublimely idiosyncratic turn by the actor) is unsettled. He feels a growing “desire to unlock the doors and windows in my existence … a little.” The recent death of his mother has whisked the rug out from under him and this young man, an anonymous author, now finds himself doubting the paths that directed him to his current situation (alone; with a protective mustache; working on a range of children’s encyclopedias for a man who signs off emails saying “see you later”).

And so Leonard launches an exploration for personal satisfaction, alongside his more outgoing Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his confidante, guide and ally in a weekly gaming session functioning as both debate (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? It's unclear. The beginning of this name is shrouded to the mists of time. It could be that the postal worker once ate a sandwich unusually quickly, or responded to a socially fraught incident by nervously peeling several snacks by biting into them).

Into Leonard’s gentle world cartwheels a new colleague (the actress), a new energetic co-worker who happily suggests to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement you can hear represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In another part during the opening installment of this program focused less on story and centered around what younger viewers might call “atmosphere”, viewers encounter Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the performer), a battered sofa of a man who secretly watches, records then replays trivia competitions to amaze his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Guiding viewers amidst this minor-key niceness there is a voiceover that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the star. Should you wonder, “surely the use of such a famous actor is at odds with the program's low-key style and starts off as just an interruption?” you're right. Nevertheless, the actress performs admirably, and phrases for example “Leonard's challenge is his absence of a ‘eureka’ face” help ensure that early misgivings yield though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

No more criticism currently. The show's core has good intentions: the right place being “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, showing its preferred bird.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, at times staring toward the sky, sometimes downward at its slippers, quietly confident that there is nothing in life as cheering as passing time with close companions.

Open the doors and windows within your world, just a bit, and welcome it inside.