Summer term jobs while studying for A-levels were never hard to come by in London in the mid-1980s.

I had already done a stint in my local M&S working on the tills. Those were the days when you had to punch the amount in rather than pass it through a scanner. Old items called cheques were still accepted also, with a guarantee card, of course.

That was 1986. By 1987, I managed to get a summer job with a difference. For a while, my dad had been working as an extra on productions in the studios and on location around London and the suburbs. He took me over to a small office in Kensington, not far from Harrods, and I got my ticket with the Film Artiste’s Association, the FAA. One morning, I was up at 4.30 and was on the road with my dad. It was my my first day’s work as an extra.

I was on my way to Charterhouse School to take part in the making of a film called “God’s Outlaw”. According to my old man it was about Tyndale and today was the day they were burning him at the stake. We arrived and the first thing I was given was a green chit with my name on and told to go and have some breakfast. After rising early and a decent journey, I decided to have the lot, full English with a couple of cups of tea.

Then straight into wardrobe where I was fitted into a Tudor-like costume with tunic and stockings and then onto the set for the first shot of the day. My dad had to leave but he had introduced me to a small gang of blokes who he had worked with a few days before on another film. They were all a bit older than me and, for me, at the tender age of seventeen, they represented the fount of all wisdom and experience. If you have seen Ricky Gervais’s Extras, the background artists in the show are waiting to be discovered. They are looking for a line and hoping to get out of the “crowd” as extras call themselves.

With this group, there was no desire to become famous or to be discovered as an actor. Most of the time they wanted to keep well away from the camera. Confused? Yes, so was I.

Let me explain the characters involved in a production. You have the director giving the orders, the director of photography (cameraman) sorting out how it will look then another chain of command which enables the smooth running of such grand schemes. The first assistant director will be with the director and he or she ensures that everything in front of the camera is as the director requested. The second AD (assistant director) will sort out the daily requirements of the production, sorting out everything from cars picking up the actors, how many extras are needed, catering, when the breaks will be and most important of all, preparing the call sheet, a daily bible of any production. The third AD is usually a young hopeful who has made a great many cups of tea and has been given the reward of looking after the actors and the most horrible job of keeping an eye on the lowest of the low, the extras.

Most of the crowd had as their first ambition of the day to keep out of shot from the camera as they would then get the full day and have a hope of being called back. They were also people who had other trades and businesses and were happy to mess about with long standing friends earning money and having a laugh. All they needed to do was bring a paper to read and have the patience to stand around all day waiting to be called on set.

As I said earlier, I was rather diffident and this boisterous crew of young lads were all out for a laugh. I was being treated to legendary tales of glorious productions and the jolly japes of my new band of brothers. Then it was time for lunch and I’d still not been used and I looked at my chit and all this money was written down about what I was getting just for turning up.

The afternoon turned into a very pleasant one as the sun shone across the cricket lawn. We were in the shadow of this great public school just chuckling and exchanging jokes. Surely, it could not be as easy as this.

Afternoon tea was called and that meant another cuppa and some lovely sandwiches and a small cake. That was probably several small cakes.

The late afternoon sun added to our slumber and a few of our merry crew were finding places to rest their weary heads when the young third AD called us to the set. We were placed in positions and told what was happening. Tyndale as played by Roger Rees would be led out and we would then watch his horrid death sanctioned by the religious authorities.

Three takes later and we were going well. I was enjoying my new found role on the silver screen as a quiet member of the rabble calling for the death of a man I had never even met, all in a day’s work. Tyndale finally died at the stake, the director shouted “cut!” and all was right in the world. My new found friends were looking forward to being signed off and they were arranging who would give me a lift back to town.

Now, during the late 1980s I wore a pair of spectacles that were rather large, as was the fashion then - none of this rimless Sven Goran Eriksson-style minimalism, oh no. Mine cost quite a few quid and would have made a very reliable replacement windscreen for a Mini Cooper.

The first AD came over to me and said “Excuse me, yes you, were you wearing those glasses in the last shot?” I nervously said “no, err, I don’t think so”.

He went on: “and you were standing here, right in front of the camera, ok then”, he walked away resigned to the fact we had to do it all again.

I was horrified that I had caused such a faux pas on my first day when Larry, a fireman, who was playing one of the escort guards, said, “don’t worry Dan, as they were bringing him in on the shot and passed me I looked at my watch, not a worry mate”. He smiled at me and then I was baptised a full fledged member of the professional extras.