SINGAPORE — For three days in April, I worked undercover on the set of upcoming MediaCorp Channel 8 drama series Against The Tide.

Here is the third and final part of my Channel 8 Diaries.

***

5am: I fall out of bed like a rotten fruit.

6.30am: My father drives me to work again. I think he’s considering charging me for this unprofitable enterprise. But he can’t talk money with me while I am asleep in the car. Heh heh.

7am: I drag myself to Wardobe. The real production assistant (PA) is on leave today so they will have to make do with me. The assistant producer (AP) for the day asks me to check that all the extras for the day have arrived. Of course, some of them are late and one never even turns up. Most of the extras are all right but some of them are downright bizarre. One annoyingly chatty man opens his suitcase, takes out his toy gun and says to me: “I have a gun if you need to borrow an extra prop.” I don’t know what to say to him.

Admittedly, it’s not easy being an extra. They often have to wait for an entire day, sometimes in obscure locations, just to shoot one or two scenes. Directors and APs sometimes bark at them because, like me, most come with no experience. Many don’t even come with common sense.

8am: We pile on the company bus and leave MediaCorp.

8.30am: We arrive at Tampines. We are going to blow a car up today. I feel about as excited as a teenage boy but also as tired as a sour-faced prune. The AP tells the extras not to use the restrooms because they are no longer in use. She points to a portable lavatory outside.

9am: Our eagle-eyed AP spots an extra walking out of one of the disused restrooms. It’s the same guy who offered me his toy gun. “I am urgent,” he says. I miss my bed and my real job.

The car that is to be blown up isn’t actually wired to a real engine, so we help to push it to the parking lot where it’s supposed to be in. This is the first time I’ve actually pushed a car. It’s overrated, if you ask me.

As usual, I help with the menial tasks — carry drinks, fetch car keys and so on. The director tells everyone to keep the set clean because there will be VIPs coming later that day to watch the car explode. I hear some people grumble.

1.30pm: We are running a little behind time. The car is not ready to be blown up so the director decides it’s time for lunch. I buy duck rice from a coffee shop nearby and sit on the floor, eating with the director and the two APs. This time, they are a little more forthcoming. “Interest lor,” one of them says, when I ask them why they became APs. Fair enough.

2pm: We continue shooting. I have to help some of the extras put their costumes on. I am not very good at these things but I try. When they don’t fit, we use duct tape. Hopefully you won’t see the tape when you watch the show at the end of the year. Even if you do, try not to write in to Channel 8 and complain about it. It might cost me my fake job.

Soon, it begins to rain. In fact, it begins to pour. When it’s hot, the umbrellas go to the actors or director. But when it rains, the umbrellas go straight to the equipment. I am pretty sure the cameras cost more than I do. I run to one of the cameras and try to help the crew bring their equipment to safety.

There is nothing much we can do in the meantime, except wait for the rain to stop. The crew runs out to buy coffee. Desmond Tan helps the APs take a few notes on their cue sheets. I sit and watch the rain fall.

When the rain stops, we start shooting again. The APs and I run to the cars with towels and try to wipe them dry. You’ll be surprised but it’s not as much fun as it sounds.

4pm: The VIPS begin arriving on set. I am told that they are the people who manage MediaCorp Television and, like me, are here to watch how filming takes place. They also seem pretty excited about the impending explosion. The AP gives me a few dollars and sends me out to buy coffee for them.

If you ask me, the VIPs should really try to work on set for a day, if they genuinely want to see what it’s like. Just look at me — I’m having a ball of a time.

We usher the extras to their spots for the next scene. But it starts to rain again, so we have to run over and tell them to hide. When it stops raining, we usher them back to their positions again.

Everyone is getting frustrated because the more it rains, the later everyone has to stay. And it has been a very tiring few days. Never mind the fact that we have to wipe the cursed car dry again!

The rain slows to a drizzle. I now have to hold the umbrella for Desmond Tan so that his hair doesn’t get wet in between takes. Once again, I am faced with the same ridiculous do-I-run-or-not predicament. Luckily, the make-up artist takes pity on me and hisses some instructions. Honestly, I think even my A Level Mathematics examination was less stressful than the umbrella duty.

I am now sunburnt and soaked at the same time — and have never been more attractive.

6pm: We blow up the car. It is incandescent. The VIPs whip out their phones and take photos. I secretly wonder what the others would say if I ran in front of the camera mid-explosion. With the umbrella. Just trollin’.

One of the part-time actors scrapes his elbow during the shoot. Desmond Tan leaps into action, cleans his wound and tapes a messy wad of cotton to his arm. “Sorry ah brother,” he says.

7.15pm: It’s a wrap! We pack everything up and usher everyone to the bus. I smell like an old chicken. We wait on the bus for about fifteen to twenty minutes, because the AP has to lock the gates before we can leave. It feels like several hours.

8.15pm: We arrive back at MediaCorp. I help unload the bus, say goodbye to my colleagues with the biggest, silliest grin, and walk straight to the taxi stand.

I never looked back.