There were some excellent bits in the David Beckham documentary, which was genuinely absorbing despite feeling at times like two hours of really good clips of football, music and beautiful people from the 1990s, padded out with another two hours of sombre, auteurish close-ups of current-day Beckham thinking about things.
Just give us more bits where a wired-looking Rio Ferdinand says “fuck” a lot. Plus all available footage of prime years Alex Ferguson where he seems to be bathed in a vengeful cold white light, like a 17th century witch-finding puritanical priest being asked questions about haircuts by sullen men with dictaphones.
