🔗 Share this article

In a quiet area of the Irish capital, an individual is standing in his driveway, wearing a vest and expressing his thoughts. “It seems like my voice is fading. More invisible,” states the main character, staring up at the night sky. “One thing’s led to another and currently it seems without a change, I’ll just carry on in this quiet, unremarkable life.” Hungry Paul, his only companion, ponders the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he replies, his bathrobe swaying in the breeze. “Superior to striving for recognition and ending up damaging things.”

For those weary by the noise and fast pace of modern television offerings, this series comes as a foil blanket and a comforting beverage of Ribena.

In line with its gentle leads, the series – a six-episode show written by its authors, inspired by the author’s subtle book – casts a critical eye toward today's world; peering critically through its spectacles toward anything in the way of disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. This show on the contrary, a tribute to quiet people; a gentle tribute to people content to wander below the parapet. However. He (one more sublimely idiosyncratic performance from Alex Lawther) is unsettled. He notices an increasing “need to open the doors and windows of my life … a little.” The loss of his beloved mother has whisked the rug away from his feet and the 32-year-old, a writer for others, now finds himself doubting the decisions that directed him to this point (unattached; defensively moustached; writing a range of kids' reference books for an employer who signs off emails using the words “see you later”).

Thus Leonard starts an exploration to find happiness, alongside his more outgoing Paul (Laurie Kynaston) acting as his close companion, life coach and co-conspirator in a weekly game night that serves both as symposium (“Is the water heated from kids relieving themselves, or do children urinate as it's heated?”) and sanctuary.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The beginning of the moniker is shrouded to the mists of time. It could be that he on one occasion consumed a sandwich in record time, or answered to a socially fraught incident by hastily opening several snacks by biting into them).

Arriving in Leonard's calm existence cartwheels a new colleague (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a fresh lively associate who happily suggests to get rid of the awful manager (the character) during the office fire drill. The rushing noise you can hear represents Leonard's calm life undergoing a shake-up.

In other scenes in the first episode of the comedy driven less by plot and centered around what younger viewers could describe as “mood”, we are introduced to the older generation (the consistently great Lorcan Cranitch), a worn-out individual who privately views, saves and reviews daytime quiz shows to amaze his loving spouse with his general knowledge.

Leading the audience amidst this gentle kindness we hear a narrator who closely resembles – and actually is – Julia Roberts. Truly, Julia Roberts. Should you wonder, “certainly the use of a major Hollywood star is at odds with the series’ unshowy MO and starts off as just a distraction?” that's accurate. Nevertheless, Roberts acquits herself well, and phrases such as “Leonard’s problem is the missing a ‘eureka’ face” contribute to ensuring that initial doubts give way if not full admiration, then at minimum tolerance.

No more criticism at this time. The show's core is in the right place: the right place being “resting on a bench alongside similar shows, showing the duck it loves.” This is a show that ambles along wearing its simple clothes, sometimes gazing upward at the stars, at other times looking toward the ground, calmly assured that nothing is in the world as uplifting as spending time alongside dear pals.

Open the doors and windows within your world, just a bit, and let it in.