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In a quiet area of Dublin, a man is standing in his driveway, wearing a tank top and sharing his feelings. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Less noticeable,” remarks the main character, staring into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and now I feel like if I don’t do something, I will continue in this minor, harmless existence.” Paul, his only companion, ponders this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he answers, his bathrobe moving in the breeze. “Better than attempting to leave an impact only to wind up defacing it.”

For anyone exhausted by the bluster and constant stimulation of current streaming terrain, this series arrives as a foil blanket and warming mug of Ribena.

Like its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a half-dozen installment program developed by the writing duo, adapted from the author’s subtle story – casts a critical eye at modern life; gazing critically above its prematurely middle-aged glasses toward anything related to disturbances, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The program rather, a tribute to quiet people; a quiet celebration of those satisfied to pootle around below the parapet. However. Leonard (one more sublimely idiosyncratic turn by the actor) is unsettled. He senses a creeping “urge to throw open the entryways in my existence … just a bit.” The loss of his mother has yanked the floor away from his feet and the 32-year-old, an anonymous author, now feels reconsidering the paths that have brought him to his current situation (alone; with a protective mustache; writing several children’s encyclopedias for a man who ends emails with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard begins an exploration for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Hungry Paul (the actor) acting as his close companion, mentor and co-conspirator during their regular board games evening that serves both as discussion (“Is the water heated because kids pee in it, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? It's unclear. The beginning of the nickname seems forgotten to the mists of time. Maybe Paul previously devoured a snack very fast, or responded to an awkward situation by hastily opening several snacks using his teeth).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts a new colleague (the performer), a fresh lively associate who cheerily offers to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the character) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise audible represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

Elsewhere in the initial show of this program driven less by plot and more by what the under-30s may refer to as “atmosphere”, viewers encounter the older generation (the brilliant Lorcan Cranitch), a battered sofa of a man who covertly observes, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to impress his devoted partner with his general knowledge.

Shepherding viewers through all this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – the famous actress. Indeed, the celebrity. If you are thinking, “surely the presence of a big-name celebrity contradicts the program's low-key style and at first acts merely as an interruption?” you would be correct. However, the actress performs admirably, and lines like “Leonard's challenge is his absence of an expression of discovery” help ensure that first reservations yield though not complete approval, then certainly understanding.

Enough complaining at this time. The show's core is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, showing its preferred bird.” The program that moves gently in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring at the stars, occasionally down at its slippers, calmly assured that nothing is on Earth as heartening as being in the company of good friends.

Unlock the entryways in your existence, just a bit, and allow it entry.