The war for the soul of Eat Bulaga has, for months, been a sprawling, complex battle waged by media giants, high-powered lawyers, and the iconic trio of Tito Sotto, Vic Sotto, and Joey de Leon (TVJ). It has been a fight over trademarks, copyrights, and billions in revenue. But this week, the conflict has taken a sharp, devastatingly personal turn. The corporate battle has receded, and a raw, emotional feud between two former “brothers” has exploded into the public eye.

The latest bombshell comes, once again, from Anjo Yllana, the former Eat Bulaga co-host who has positioned himself as a vocal defender of TVJ and the “original” group. After a series of public confrontations with other figures, Yllana has now aimed his sights at a new, and perhaps most painful, target: Jose Manalo.

The accusation is simple, yet packed with a generation’s worth of emotional baggage. The claim, now ripping through social media, is that Jose Manalo “inagaw”—stole—Anjo Yllana’s partner.

This allegation has left the public stunned, not just by its content, but by its implications. This is no longer a corporate dispute. This is a personal “J’accuse,” an accusation of betrayal that cuts to the very heart of the Eat Bulgaga family. Jose Manalo, who, along with Wally Bayola and Paolo Ballesteros, chose to stay with TAPE Inc. and become the new faces of the show, is now being publicly branded as a “thief” by a man who once shared a dressing room with him.

The immediate, frantic question from the public was: what “partner”? In the salacious world of showbiz, the mind immediately goes to a romantic relationship. But this is not a story of romantic infidelity. The “partner” Anjo Yllana is referring to is something far more valuable and symbolic in their world. It is the legacy. It is the show. It is the sacred, 40-year-old “partnership” with the Filipino audience that Anjo feels he and TVJ built, and that Jose Manalo has now “stolen.”

To understand the depth of this accusation, one must understand the culture of Eat Bulaga. For over four decades, it was not just a television program; it was a family. The hosts were not colleagues; they were “Dabarkads.” They were a band of brothers who grew up, grew old, and built an empire together. TVJ were the fathers, and hosts like Anjo Yllana, Jose Manalo, Wally Bayola, and Paolo Ballesteros were the sons, the next generation.

When the “schism” happened—the painful, public divorce between TVJ and TAPE Inc.—a line was drawn in the sand. Every host was forced to make an impossible choice: Do you go with your “fathers” (TVJ) into an uncertain future, based on loyalty? Or do you stay with the “home” (TAPE Inc. and the Eat Bulaga studio) that has given you a steady, prosperous life?

Anjo Yllana chose loyalty. He walked out with TVJ, becoming one of their most vocal defenders.

Jose Manalo, along with his own partners Wally and Paolo, stayed. They honored their contracts with TAPE Inc. and, in doing so, became the new pillars of the rebranded show.

This is the source of Anjo’s profound sense of betrayal. In his eyes, Jose did not just make a business decision; he committed an act of treason. He broke the “band of brothers.” When Anjo Yllana accuses Jose Manalo of “stealing his partner,” he is looking at Jose as the man who took his spot. He is looking at the Eat Bulaga stage, a place he considered his home and his birthright, and seeing Jose Manalo standing in it. The “partner” is the show itself—the legacy, the audience, the identity that Anjo believes belongs to the originals.

Jose Manalo’s rise to the top of the new Eat Bulaga is the salt in this open wound. For years, “JoWaPao” (Jose, Wally, Paolo) were the beloved second-stringers, the heirs apparent to TVJ. Now, they are the main event. Jose, as the new lead host, has effectively taken the role that TVJ, and by extension, their loyalists like Anjo, once held. To Anjo, this is the ultimate act of “agaw”—a hostile takeover not just of a show, but of a family legacy.

This new feud has created a painful and deeply divisive civil war among the “Dabarkads” fanbase. The public is torn.

On one side, you have the TVJ loyalists, who stand firmly with Anjo Yllana. They see Jose Manalo as a “traitor,” a man who chose money over “utang na loob” (debt of gratitude). They echo Anjo’s sentiments, flooding social media with comments that Jose, Wally, and Paolo would be “nothing” without TVJ, and that their decision to stay with TAPE Inc. was an unforgivable act of betrayal. For them, Anjo is a hero, speaking a painful truth.

On the other side, a significant portion of the audience is defending Jose Manalo. They see a different narrative: one of a working man, a professional, who was caught in a fight between billionaires. Jose Manalo, they argue, is not a traitor; he is a loyal employee who honored his contract. His loyalty is to his family, who he needs to feed, and to the institution that gave him his break. They ask, “Why should Jose throw away his career and his livelihood for a fight that isn’t his?”

This faction sees Anjo Yllana’s new attack as sour grapes—the bitterness of a man on the “losing” side (as TAPE Inc. still holds the studio and the show) lashing out at those who are still employed. They see Jose, Wally, and Paolo not as “thieves,” but as the very people who kept the show alive, the ones who reported for duty so that hundreds of production staff, cameramen, and crew members wouldn’t lose their jobs.

This is what makes this new feud so heartbreaking. It is a complex, philosophical debate about the very nature of loyalty. Is loyalty owed to the people who mentored you, or to the company that signs your paycheck? Is it about the past, or is it about the present?

Anjo Yllana’s accusation is a direct shot at Jose’s character. He is attempting to shatter the “JoWaPao” public image—one of humble, hardworking men—and rebrand them as opportunistic “usurpers.” By calling Jose a “thief,” Anjo is publicly challenging his legitimacy as the new face of Eat Bulaga. He is, in effect, calling him an impostor.

As of this writing, Jose Manalo has not responded to the allegation. His silence is in stark contrast to Anjo’s noise. Jose has always maintained a public persona of being a simple comedian, a man who is just there to work and make people laugh. He has, thus far, refused to be drawn into the public mudslinging, likely on the advice of TAPE’s legal team.

But Anjo’s accusation, a direct, personal attack, may be impossible to ignore. It has successfully shifted the narrative from a legal battle to an emotional, personal war. It is a story of a “brother” who feels he was left behind, lashing out at the “brother” who he believes “stole” his inheritance.

The 40-year legacy of Eat Bulaga was built on the foundation of “isang libo’t isang tuwa” (one thousand and one joys). But today, that foundation is cracked, and its “family” is at war. Anjo Yllana’s latest “rebelasyon” has opened a new, painful chapter, one that proves that in this bitter divorce, the deepest wounds are not corporate; they are the ones inflicted by those you once called “brother.”