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In a quiet area of the city, a man can be found on the pavement, wearing a sleeveless jumper and voicing his feelings. “I feel myself getting quieter. Less noticeable,” says the main character, looking toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and at this point I feel like unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this simple, peaceful routine.” Paul, his only confidant, ponders these words. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his dressing gown moving with the wind. “Superior to attempting to leave an impact and ending up damaging things.”

For anyone weary by the noise and constant stimulation of today’s TV offerings, this series steps in like a cozy wrap and warming mug of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-episode program created by the writing duo, inspired by Rónán Hession’s understated book – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; gazing skeptically through its spectacles at anything that involves disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. This show on the contrary, an ode to introversion; a gentle tribute to people content to pootle around out of the spotlight. However. The character (a further sublimely idiosyncratic turn from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He feels a growing “need to open the entryways in my existence … a little.” The passing of his beloved mother has yanked the floor from under his slippers and Leonard, an anonymous author, now finds himself questioning the paths that directed him to this point (unattached; with a protective mustache; creating a range of kids' reference books for a boss who concludes messages with the phrase “goodbye for now”).

Thus Leonard launches himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Hungry Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his close companion, guide and co-conspirator during their regular board games evening which acts as discussion (“Is the pool warm due to children urinating, or do children urinate since it's warm?”) and sanctuary.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The beginning of this name is shrouded in mystery. Perhaps he on one occasion consumed a snack unusually quickly, or reacted to an awkward situation by nervously peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence comes a vibrant character (the performer), a new lively associate who happily suggests to get rid of the awful manager (the character) at a fire practice. The swift movement you can hear represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

Elsewhere in the initial show of a series focused less on story and centered around what a modern audience may refer to as “vibes”, we meet the older generation (the consistently great the actor), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, saves and reviews trivia competitions to amaze his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Guiding the audience amidst this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that sounds very much like – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, Julia Roberts. If you are thinking, “certainly the inclusion of a major Hollywood star contradicts the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a diversion?” that's accurate. Still, Roberts acquits herself well, and lines like “The issue with Leonard is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” assist in making sure that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining for now. The show's core has good intentions: the right place being “resting on a bench next to the Detectorists, showing the duck it loves.” The program that ambles along in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up at the stars, sometimes downward toward the ground, calmly assured that there is nothing on Earth as heartening as spending time in the company of dear pals.

Open the doors and windows in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.