After another sustained barrage of Scotophobic mayhem from the Tories and their media soulmates, the mind flashes back to David Cameron’s autumnal plea to Scotland. You’ll choke up at his words, so I’ll swiftly mention a couple of the weekend’s tartan terror highlights while you hunt out the Kleenex.

On Saturday, The Sun sourced Nicola Sturgeon’s “ruthlessness” to the day her girlish self slashed the hair off her sister’s Sindy doll (“Dollgate”). If that was the most calamitous scalping since Samson brought down the temple, the Mail on Sunday teased a more recent historical comparison from Theresa May. She foresaw an SNP-supported Labour government as the gravest constitutional threat since the abdication crisis of 1936, and hats off to the Home Secretary for reining in the hysteria.

On the one hand, a Nazi king on the throne as human history’s greatest conflict approached. On the other, a government legitimately formed in accord with an (admittedly non-existent) constitution after a free and fair election. Potayto, potarto, tomayto, tomarto.

But now join me on that jaunt down memory lane to 9 September 2014, when a quivery-voiced PM flew to Edinburgh to issue his 11th-hour plea. Welling up, Cameron said this with every appearance of sincerity. “I would be heartbroken if this family of nations that we’ve put together was torn apart. I love my country far more than I love my party.” When within moments of the result he made his spiteful little English-votes-for-English-laws speech, as reprised last week, it was plain that he had been as sincere as Tony Soprano sympathising with the widow for her loss at the funeral of someone he had iced.

Now, with this unrelenting depiction of the Scots as an invasion force of savages poised across the Tweed, Cameron has set his legacy in the stone of destiny. His obituary will record him as the crocodile-tears Prime Minister who illustrated that greater love hath no man than that he lay down his country for his life.

It’s a bit mad, Mhairi. Innit?

The lure of hyperbole is strong in the eye of an election storm, but any temptation to describe Mhairi Black as the campaign’s most engaging candidate should be resisted. The politics student who is standing for Paisley in the SNP interest is the most engaging candidate EVER. Not only is she 20 years old, and odds-on to become the youngest MP since 1667. Mhairi also exhibits an inspirational talent for plain speaking. Even the Independent interview in which she described the prospect of going to Westminster as “a bit mad, innit?” barely gives the flavour.

For that, we must go back to the recent rally at which she recalled how triumphalist anti-independence campaigners sardonically wished her better luck next time. “It took everything, every fibre of ma being,” she told the crowd, “not to put the nut in one of them.” We look forward to Mhairi cleansing the body politic of the itchy fungal infection that is Douglas Alexander, and of course to her maiden speech. “Mr Speaker, before I address the House for the first time, may I say that I dinnae like the way you’re looking at me? Do you want some, pal? You want me the put the nut in it, wee man, is tha’ it?”

BoJo is Murdoch’s messiah

With the polls (so far) resistant to the demonising of the Scots, nervous Tories and their media masters look for a messiah. Especially keen on placing the crown of thorns on Boris Johnson’s platinum locks is The Sun. Unsated by an adoring two-page interview, the Sunday edition gushed forth a leader headlined “BoJo has got mojo.”

We wish to make it crystal clear that this adoration is wholly unconnected with Rupert Murdoch, with whom Boris recently dined twice in Mayfair, and who yesterday gave his carer the slip to tweet that failing to win a majority would spell instant doom for David Cameron.

Equally irrelevant is any memory Rupert may have of Boris dismissing News of the World phone-hacking allegations as politically motivated codswallop. The suggestion that he would instruct his titles to insert a leader with whom he knows he can do business is probably absurd and frankly offensive.

Farage can’t tolerate himself

One of the charms of the newspaper questionnaire is the ritual celebrity reply when asked after their worst fault (“I guess I care about other people too much”). With typical inventiveness, Nigel Farage found a refreshing twist when he and the other party leaders answered Daily Telegraph inquiries.

To the question, “If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?”, Nick Clegg had a crack at wit (“I’d be Prime Minister”), Ed Miliband was earnest (he’d spend more time with Justine and the kids), and David Cameron wished he’d worked harder at mastering a second language (Brummy, perhaps, or some other foreign tongue in which the translation for “Aston Villa” is “Aston Villa”).

Only Nigel was fiercely self-critical. The thing he’d change about himself, he said with no apparent ironic intent, is that he’d become more cut-throat as he finds himself “too tolerant”. Even if it was the Temazepam talking, bless him for that.

I like caring Clarkson

From the ashes of his TV career, Jeremy Clarkson rises like a phoenix. A Sunday Times column finds old bison head reborn as a bleeding-heart liberal. Beyond empathising with war zone refugees risking and losing their lives in the Mediterranean, he argues that “If we are human beings, we should let them in”.