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In a peaceful area of the city, a person is standing outside his home, sporting a vest and sharing his thoughts. “I notice I'm becoming more silent. Harder to see,” remarks the protagonist, gazing up at the night sky. “Events have unfolded and currently I feel like unless I take action, my life will proceed in this simple, peaceful routine.” Hungry Paul, his only confidant, reflects on these words. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his dressing gown moving in the breeze. “Superior to striving for recognition only to wind up defacing it.”

For viewers exhausted by the chaos and fast pace of today’s TV terrain, this series comes similar to a cozy wrap and warming mug of Ribena.

Like its quiet characters, the series – a half-dozen installment program created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from Rónán Hession’s subtle 2019 novel – takes a dim view on contemporary society; peering critically above its eyewear toward anything that involves unnecessary noise, quick actions or – heaven forfend – an abundance of ambition. The series rather, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration of those satisfied to wander below the parapet. And yet. He (a further sublimely idiosyncratic portrayal from Alex Lawther) feels restless. He feels an increasing “desire to unlock the entryways of my life … just a bit.” The passing of his mother has pulled the carpet from under his slippers and this young man, a writer for others, now finds himself doubting the choices that directed him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; working on a range of educational volumes for a boss who ends messages with the phrase “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard begins an exploration for emotional fulfilment, alongside his more outgoing Paul (the actor) acting as his trusted friend, mentor and partner in a recurring gaming session which acts as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The origin of the moniker is shrouded in history. Maybe the postal worker once ate some food in record time, or answered to a tense moment by panic-peeling four scotch eggs using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (the performer), a new lively co-worker who happily suggests to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement audible represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

In another part in the first episode of a series driven less by plot and more on what younger viewers may refer to as “mood”, we are introduced to Hungry Paul’s dad (the brilliant the actor), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, records then replays television game programs to impress his adoring wife with his general knowledge.

Leading the audience through all this subtle warmth we hear a narrator that is unmistakably – and actually is – the Hollywood icon. Yes, the star. In case you're considering, “certainly the presence of such a famous actor is at odds with the show's modest approach and initially serves only as an interruption?” that's accurate. However, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue for example “The issue with Leonard is his absence of an expression of discovery” contribute to ensuring that first reservations fade if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit is in the right place: that place is “sitting on a park bench next to the Detectorists, pointing out its preferred bird.” It’s a series that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up at the stars, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is in the world as cheering as being in the company of close companions.

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