🔗 Share this article

In a calm neighborhood of the Irish capital, an individual can be found in his driveway, wearing a sleeveless jumper and expressing his concerns. “It seems like I'm becoming more silent. More invisible,” says Leonard, staring into the darkness. “Circumstances have evolved and currently I feel like if I don’t do something, my life will proceed in this minor, harmless existence.” Hungry Paul, his only confidant, ponders the idea. “That's perfectly fine,” he responds, his bathrobe flapping in the breeze. “Preferable to trying to make a mark and causing harm instead.”

For viewers tired by the chaos and constant stimulation of today’s TV landscape, this series steps in as a warm cover with a hot drink of blackcurrant juice.

Similar to its quiet characters, the series – a six-part comedy written by Richie Conroy and Mark Hodkinson, adapted from the author’s subtle 2019 novel – looks disapprovingly toward today's world; peering disapprovingly through its eyewear on everything that involves disturbances, sudden movements or – heaven forfend – excessive aspiration. The series is, instead, a celebration of shyness; a quiet celebration for those satisfied to amble along out of the spotlight. However. Leonard (one more distinctly original performance from the star) feels restless. He notices an increasing “need to open the doors and windows of my life … just a bit.” The loss of his parent has pulled the carpet out from under him and this young man, a writer for others, now realizes questioning the paths that have brought him to his current situation (unattached; defensively moustached; writing several kids' reference books for a man who signs off correspondence saying “ciao for now”).

Therefore Leonard starts himself on a quest for emotional fulfilment, accompanied by the somewhat braver Paul (Laurie Kynaston) serving as his trusted friend, life coach and partner during their regular game night functioning as both symposium (“Is the water heated due to children urinating, or do children urinate because it’s warm?”) and refuge.

(How did Paul get his nickname? No idea. The origin of this name appears lost in history. Perhaps Paul on one occasion consumed a sandwich very fast, or reacted to a tense moment by nervously peeling four scotch eggs by biting into them).

Entering Leonard's quiet life bursts Shelley (Jamie-Lee O’Donnell), a new energetic associate who lightheartedly proposes to get rid of Leonard’s appalling boss (Paul Reid) during the office fire drill. That whooshing sound audible represents Leonard's calm life being turned upside down.

Elsewhere in the initial show of the comedy focused less on story and more by what younger viewers could describe as “vibes”, we meet Paul's father (the ever-wonderful the performer), a worn-out individual who secretly watches, records then replays daytime quiz shows to dazzle his loving spouse through his fact recall.

Shepherding viewers through all this subtle warmth is a narrator that is unmistakably – and, indeed, very much is – the famous actress. Truly, the celebrity. Should you wonder, “certainly the presence of a big-name celebrity contradicts the program's low-key style and initially serves only as a diversion?” you would be correct. Still, the actress performs admirably, and lines for example “Leonard's challenge is that he lacks an expression of discovery” assist in making sure that early misgivings give way if not full admiration, then at least acceptance.

Enough complaining at this time. The series' spirit is well-intentioned: that place is “located on a seat next to the Detectorists, pointing out its preferred bird.” It’s a series that strolls leisurely in comfortable attire, occasionally looking up into space, sometimes downward at its slippers, serenely certain that no experience is in life as heartening as passing time with close companions.

Throw open the portals in your existence, slightly, and welcome it inside.