Ron Briffa denies Ricky Caruana feud after viral post sends Malta into gossip overdrive

Ron Briffa says no feud with Ricky Caruana despite post hinting at frustration
By Hot Malta staff

Valletta – For a country whose national pastime is arguably “kafeċ gossip” over a foamy cappuccino, yesterday’s Instagram story by veteran broadcaster Ron Briffa had every village barstool psychologist diagnosing a “new media war”.
The 17-second clip showed Briffa, 62, sipping tea on his Sliema balcony while the voice-over of rival presenter Ricky Caruana played in the background. Briffa captioned it: “Some voices age like cheap wine—loud, sour and best left on the shelf.”

Within minutes #RonVsRicky was trending above #EurovisionMalta. By sunset, Caruana’s fans—nicknamed “Ricky’s Rockers”—had spammed Briffa’s page with goat emojis (a jab at his 2019 “Għasfur ta’ San Blas” cooking segment that featured an unimpressed livestock cameo).

But when Hot Malta caught up with Briffa outside the Broadcasting Authority’s Floriana offices this morning, the normally flamboyant host was in conciliatory mood.
“There is no feud,” he insisted, adjusting the trademark silk scarf that has survived every Maltese summer since 1998. “I was venting about the echo in my Bluetooth speaker, not Ricky. The timing was unfortunate; his podcast auto-played right when I hit record.”

Pressed on the wine metaphor, Briffa laughed: “I’ve called Joseph Muscat a ‘room-temperature Kinnie’ and compared Adrian Delia to ‘over-proof ħelwa tat-Tork’. Maltese metaphor is my love language. If I wanted to insult Ricky, I’d do it in full Maltese rhyming couplets on my own show, not in a disappearing story.”

Local context: two broadcasters, one tiny island
Malta’s broadcasting pond has always been more goldfish bowl than ocean. With ONE, NET, PBS and a handful of indie stations cramming 520,000 islanders into overlapping audiences, personality clashes are the telenovela we never asked for but can’t switch off.
Briffa ruled the Saturday-morning airwaves throughout the noughties with “Ron u l-Ħbieb”, a variety show that once attracted 42 % of national viewership—numbers that make today’s Netflix Malta look anaemic. Caruana, 15 years Briffa’s junior, carved a younger, edgier niche on TikTok debates about everything from tunnel tolls to tuna tariffs. Their demographics barely overlap, yet both command the advertisers Malta’s economy runs on: iGaming, retail banks and, inevitably, political parties.

Cultural significance: the politics of “ħbieb”
In Malta, calling someone “ħabib” (friend) is both greeting and insurance policy. Public spats risk more than ratings; they can unravel decades of wedding invites, festa committee seats and shared kusksu recipes.
Media analyst Prof. Graziella Brincat warns: “When two household names fall out, the ripple hits parish level. Viewers choose sides like they choose football clubs—passionately and hereditarily. Families literally split Sunday lunch over which station stays on the living-room TV.”

Community impact: sponsors hold breath, fans pick bones
By noon, Bay Street’s electronic billboards were already meme-ready: side-by-side photos of Briffa and Caruana above the caption “Who’s your daddy?” (a nod to Briffa’s 2004 Eurovision spoof). Retailers love the free eyeballs, but corporate sponsors are jittery.
A marketing manager for a leading telecoms provider told Hot Malta, off the record: “We have ad spots on both shows. If this escalates, we’ll be asked to pick a lane. In Malta, neutrality isn’t a strategy—it’s a target on your back.”

Caruana, reached while filming a segment in Gozo, played down the drama. “Ron taught me everything I know about pacing an interview,” he said. “If he’s frustrated, maybe it’s because the older generation fears the algorithm. I still call him ‘maestro’.”

The olive branch came with a Maltese caveat, though: “Next time, tag me, maestro. My engagement rate could use the boost.”

Conclusion: no blood, just ink
By teatime the goat emojis had been replaced by peace-sign GIFs. Briffa posted a joint selfie with Caruana outside Castille, both holding pastizzi. Caption: “Flaky pastry, not flaky friendships. #MaltaFirst.”
In a country where the horizon is always someone else’s rooftop, feuds burn fast and fade faster—fuelled by nothing more than summer humidity and the eternal need for something to talk about before the village band strikes up tonight’s marċ.
As one top comment put it: “Kemm hu sabiħ li jkollna x’ngħidu, imma aktar sabiħ meta jkollna lil min jismagħna.” (“How beautiful it is to have something to say, but even more beautiful to have someone who listens.”)