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In a peaceful neighborhood of the city, an individual can be found on the pavement, sporting a vest and voicing his feelings. “I feel my voice is fading. Less noticeable,” states Leonard, gazing toward the stars. “One thing’s led to another and now it seems unless I take action, my life will proceed in this quiet, unremarkable life.” His friend Paul, his only confidant, considers this statement. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his dressing gown swaying with the wind. “Superior to striving for recognition and causing harm instead.”

For those weary by the bluster and fast pace of modern television terrain, the show steps in similar to a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of blackcurrant juice.

In line with its harmless protagonists, this comedy – a six-part show developed by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the author’s understated story – casts a critical eye on contemporary society; looking skeptically above its spectacles toward anything related to disturbances, abrupt changes or – perish the thought – an abundance of ambition. The series is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a gentle tribute for those content to wander away from attention. And yet. The character (a further distinctly original portrayal by the actor) is uneasy. He feels an increasing “need to open the doors and windows in my existence … a little.” The recent death of his beloved mother has whisked the rug out from under him and Leonard, a writer for others, now feels reconsidering the paths that have brought him to where he is (unattached; sporting facial hair; creating a range of children’s encyclopedias for a boss who signs off messages using the words “goodbye for now”).

And so Leonard launches an exploration to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing friend Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his confidante, life coach and partner during their regular game night which acts as discussion (“Does the pool feel warm from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and safe space.

(What's the origin of "Hungry" Paul? No idea. The source of the nickname appears lost in history. Perhaps Paul on one occasion consumed some food very fast, or responded to an awkward situation by panic-peeling several snacks using his teeth).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels Shelley (the actress), a recent spring-loaded associate who lightheartedly proposes to kill Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) in a workplace safety exercise. The rushing noise noticeable signals Leonard's peaceful routine being turned upside down.

In another part in the initial show of the comedy focused less on story and centered around what the under-30s might call “mood”, we are introduced to the older generation (the ever-wonderful Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who covertly observes, saves and reviews trivia competitions to impress his devoted partner through his fact recall.

Leading the audience amidst this subtle warmth there is a voiceover who closely resembles – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Yes, the celebrity. In case you're considering, “undoubtedly the use of a big-name celebrity contradicts the series’ unshowy MO and at first acts merely as a diversion?” you would be correct. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases for example “The issue with Leonard is his absence of a look of sudden insight” assist in making sure that first reservations fade though not complete approval, then at least acceptance.

No more criticism for now. The show's core has good intentions: which is “located on a seat in the company of gentle comedies, pointing out the duck it loves.” It’s a series that moves gently wearing its simple clothes, occasionally looking up into space, sometimes downward at its feet, quietly confident that no experience is on Earth as uplifting as being in the company of good friends.

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