Last Saturday, Pedro Piqueras appeared on the Collapse program with Richard Ustrell, offering viewers a window into the realities of journalism as it sits at Telecinco. A month has passed since his farewell on Informativos Telecinos, a moment that touched on current events and reflected on his career under the newsroom lights. In that moment, Piqueras opened up about his own worries and the pressures that come with steering trusted news coverage when public memory is quick to judge.
He spoke about the endless stream of imitations that followed him, noting how some remakes painted him in dramatic tones like “terrible” or “apocalyptic.” He recalled remarking, at one point, that the word apocalypse had even appeared in his career’s vocabulary—an echo of a time when the program itself wrestled with apocalyptic themes. There was a playful moment when he shared a humorous clip compiling a chorus of “disaster” words he had used on different days, as if to say, I’m not promising more adjectives, and then shrugging, predicting that the fiction would keep rolling regardless.
During a recollection of the show Polònia, Piqueras admitted that the parodies did unsettle him. He described himself as a very serious man who produced a news program with balance and restraint, and it bothered him to think that future viewers would remember him mainly as the “man in the apocalypse.” He recalled the moment when passersby on the other sidewalk shouted at him as if he embodied the end of days, and he confessed that it was a troubling experience that day, a reminder of how easily perception can outrun reality.
Further into the conversation, he described a meeting with Raúl Perezone, the president of Los 40, who is known for his running impersonations. Piqueras half-joked about walking into that space and calling out the impersonator directly, asking, who is the one mimicking me? He noted that Raúl’s presence had diminished there, yet the two smiled at the idea of friendship lasting beyond the moment. Perezone even visited Piqueras at home for dinner the previous weekend, a sign of camaraderie that contrasted with the sharp satirical lampoons on screen. Piqueras explained that he had tried repeatedly to discourage the use of a certain impersonation technique, but the creator insisted on keeping a recognizable formula alive, and Piqueras conceded that the impersonator’s influence was not something easily removed. He offered a warm appraisal of the impersonator as an extraordinary person, despite the ongoing tension between satire and serious news.
On the record with TV3, Piqueras elaborated on how he confronted the issue with Paolo Vasile, the former CEO of Mediaset at the time. He recalled saying, I’m worried about imitations because they’re fake, and he remembered Vasile downplaying the topic with a note of personal sentiment toward public figures, even the king. The response framed the matter as less serious and more like a form of recognition, a reward rather than a threat. The exchange underscored the delicate balance between parody and professional responsibility in a media landscape where personality can become an enduring brand.
In retrospect, Piqueras considered the overall impact of the episodes. He acknowledged that the satire could be seen as a compliment from a certain angle, especially in a world where many young people may not watch the news closely but still encounter his image in popular culture. He observed that the public often learns about him through these stories and that there is a genuine sense of affection behind the laughter. He added that anger did not define him in the end; a calmer understanding emerged, and he no longer harbors resentment. The experience became part of a larger narrative about how a serious journalist navigates a media ecosystem full of parody, perception, and praise alike. In closing, Piqueras reflected on the personal growth that can arise from such attention, emphasizing the human element in reporting and the enduring connection with audiences that transcends one momentary controversy.