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In a quiet neighborhood of the city, a man can be found in his driveway, dressed in a vest and expressing his feelings. “I notice my voice is fading. Harder to see,” says the protagonist, staring into the darkness. “Events have unfolded and currently I believe unless I take action, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, Leonard’s best and only friend, considers these words. “There's no harm in that,” he answers, his bathrobe swaying in the breeze. “Preferable to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For those tired by the bluster and rat-tat-tat of modern television offerings, the show steps in as a cozy wrap with a hot drink of Ribena.

Similar to its harmless protagonists, the series – a six-part comedy created by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, inspired by the author’s subtle book – takes a dim view on contemporary society; peering critically through its prematurely middle-aged glasses at anything related to disturbances, sudden movements or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The program on the contrary, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute for those content to amble along below the parapet. But. He (one more distinctly original turn from the star) is uneasy. He feels a growing “urge to throw open the entryways within my world … slightly.” The passing of his mother has yanked the floor out from under him and this young man, an anonymous author, now finds himself doubting the paths that directed him to where he is (single; with a protective mustache; working on several kids' reference books for a boss who ends messages with the phrase “see you later”).

Thus Leonard launches on a journey for personal satisfaction, with the slightly bolder Paul (the actor) serving as his trusted friend, mentor and ally in a recurring game night functioning as both debate (“Does the pool feel warm due to children urinating, or is it that kids pee because it’s warm?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The origin of the moniker is shrouded in history. It could be that he once ate some food in record time, or responded to a socially fraught incident by panic-peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence bursts a vibrant character (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh energetic co-worker who lightheartedly proposes to eliminate Leonard’s appalling boss (the actor) in a workplace safety exercise. The swift movement audible represents Leonard's calm life experiencing a revolution.

In other scenes in the initial show of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what the under-30s may refer to as “vibes”, we are introduced to Paul's father (the consistently great the actor), a battered sofa of a man who privately views, records then replays daytime quiz shows to impress his loving spouse using his trivia skills.

Leading the audience 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 star. If you are thinking, “surely the inclusion of such a famous actor is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and initially serves only as a diversion?” you would be correct. Still, Roberts does a good job, and dialogue such as “Leonard's challenge is his absence of an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that initial doubts fade if not quite to appreciation, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: that place is “located on a seat alongside similar shows, showing its favourite duck.” This is a show that strolls leisurely in its sleeveless jumper, at times staring into space, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that there is nothing on Earth as uplifting as being in the company of good friends.

Open the doors and windows of your life, slightly, and let it in.