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In a peaceful suburb of the city, a person is standing outside his home, wearing a tank top and voicing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. More invisible,” remarks Leonard, gazing up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and at this point it seems unless I take action, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Paul, his closest companion, reflects on these words. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his bathrobe flapping gently. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For those tired by the chaos and fast pace of current streaming landscape, this series comes similar to a warm cover with a hot drink of Ribena.

In line with its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-episode program written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from Rónán Hession’s quiet story – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; peering disapprovingly above its spectacles toward anything related to disturbances, sudden movements or – perish the thought – too much drive. The series is, instead, an ode to introversion; a quiet celebration to people satisfied to wander out of the spotlight. But. He (one more distinctly original portrayal from Alex Lawther) is uneasy. He notices a growing “desire to unlock the entryways in my existence … a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has pulled the carpet out from under him and the 32-year-old, a ghost writer, now realizes reconsidering the paths that directed him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; writing multiple kids' reference books for a man who signs off emails saying “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard starts himself on a quest to find happiness, with the slightly bolder Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and co-conspirator during their regular gaming session functioning as both debate (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The source of the moniker seems forgotten in history. It could be that the postal worker previously devoured a sandwich very fast, or responded to a tense moment by nervously peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new spring-loaded associate who cheerily offers to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) during the office fire drill. The swift movement audible is Leonard’s gentle world being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the first episode of a series not heavily plotted and centered around what the under-30s could describe as “atmosphere”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the brilliant the performer), a tired character who covertly observes, tapes and rewatches television game programs to amaze his adoring wife using his trivia skills.

Guiding viewers through all this minor-key niceness we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Indeed, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “certainly the use of a major Hollywood star contradicts the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a distraction?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and dialogue such as “Leonard’s problem is that he lacks a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that early misgivings yield if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. The show's core is in the right place: which is “sitting on a park bench in the company of gentle comedies, indicating the duck it loves.” The program that ambles along in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring toward the sky, at other times looking toward the ground, serenely certain that nothing is in life as uplifting as being with dear pals.

Unlock the entryways of your life, slightly, and allow it entry.