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It’s difficult to know what to expect when you’re working with six guys for the first time to make a film.

Just put to one side the fact that they’re not professional film-makers, and consider that a couple have spent their lives in and out of prison; most of them have been on and off the streets; and a fair few are recovering from a drink, drug or mental health problem - or a cocktail of all three.

As I walked into the BBC Outreach Project at London Docklands Museum I didn’t know what I was going to make of them, nor them of me.

I didn’t even know if they’d had the chance to watch much television, or seen films.

I had constructed all my prejudice, and dragged it in with me.

We started some creativity work. They shouted and laughed the most stupid ideas you could make of a paper clip. Wild, wacky ideas, convoluted, crazy. They weren’t shy.

And it suddenly made sense. When you’re on the streets, living your life in public, shyness is not something you can hold on to.

The original idea was to try to make one film as part of an Outreach project.

After we knocked ideas around, we decided to make six. And a half hour documentary to boot.

I really pushed them to think about the story. What’s the message? What’s the point? Let’s hang on to that, drop this, park that and come back to it.

I forgot I was dealing with people some of whom had mental health problems. I forgot some of them had murky pasts.

I forgot they hadn’t spent fifteen years making films like I had, I forgot that this was a nicey nicey Outreach Project.

By the end of the storytelling session we were all almost hysterical, and we were going to take over the world. 

Their creativity was exceptional, their drive was full of passion, and their enthusiasm viral.

Warren wanted to argue with himself about the fidelity of his girlfriend; Liam wanted to do a Charlie Chaplin take on keeping fit; Simon wanted to do something about how people give him funny looks when he’s standing at a cashpoint; Colin wanted a film of calamities; Charles wanted to film a drama about two guys arguing over a girl. Only James wanted to document real life reflecting what it’s like to come out of rehab.

Five dramas, one documentary. In week one, the project gave us five hours to get the stories straight; week two, six hours to shoot; and week three, four hours to edit for a showing to the great and good.

I was only meant to be involved in the storytelling session, with others taking over. But I couldn’t resist.

It all got very competitive…we couldn’t let the guys down with some half-hearted second-rate attempt; this was going to have to match the standards they themselves had set.

I warned one of the guys that they’d have to do some pretty stupid things in public.

He looked at me and said: “I spent ten years on the streets mate. What stupid things haven’t I done?”

We were filming in and around Canary Wharf. Liam, in shorts and a wig Chaplin-esquely weaving through security guards, police, and bankers on their way to pow wows; Simon chasing a terrified woman through the streets; Colin falling over anything he came across. 

It was absurd.

Then came the editing. We made sure we were true to their stories, and the guys always had control. And a couple of sleepless nights later, a fair sprinkle of competitiveness to use the best editing effect, and we were ready to show the world.

It was at the showing that someone pointed out all the films were about how we perceive others, about the judgements we make, and the prejudice we build.

That’s true, but as we all filmed the pieces we all forgot what made us different, and revelled in what drew us together – the creative urge.

We’ve decided to start a film club, and make a half hour for a wider audience. There’s no stopping them now.

Tim Burke is Viewer Content Editor for BBC English Regions.