And yet, north of the border, the Scottish edition of the Sun could hardly be more different. Apart from the similarly bonkers concept, here Nicola Sturgeon, whose Scottish National Party stands on the brink of an astonishing clean sweep of all 59 Scottish seats at Westminster, a tenfold increase, is depicted as Princess Leia, clasping a lightsaber. "STUR WARS," thuds the large type. "MAY THE 7TH BE WITH YOU: WHY IT'S TIME TO VOTE SNP."
Murdoch might be unabashedly pro-Tory, but he also knows how to read a crowd.
At the last British election in 2010, the story was "Cleggmania" - with Nick Clegg's Liberal Democrats coming through the middle to hold the balance of power.
Against the advice of his friend John Key, who urged him to pursue a confidence-and-supply style deal, Cameron put together a full coalition with the Lib Dems, marking the end of more than three decades of single-party majority rule. Cameron achieved his goal of stable government, but the Lib Dem supporters felt betrayed, and the party is on course to lose half its seats.
This time, with the leading parties neck and neck and a hung parliament almost certain, the surge is a lighter, Caledonian yellow, in the shape of a Scottish National Party that has rebounded powerfully after the lost referendum on independence, thanks both to the perceived betrayal by Labour and the Tories, who had promised greater devolution in exchange for staying in the union, and an impeccable campaign from new leader Sturgeon.
The SNP performance is such that the growth of the right wing, xenophobic party Ukip has become almost an afterthought. While it has cleaved a slice of Tory support away, it is unlikely to take more than one seat. Ukip's support is fairly evenly spread, and first-past-the-post has no respect for that.
Newborn Prince Cameron weirdness notwithstanding, the right wing press has been swinging off its hinges all campaign, apparently desperate to emulate the famous 1992 Sun election-day front page that stuck the Labour leader's head in a light bulb and blared, "If Kinnock wins today will the last person to leave Britain please turn out the lights".
An SNP-Labour deal would amount to "worst crisis since abdication [of Edward VIII]", splashed the Daily Mail, drawing on remarks by senior Tory minister Theresa May. Labour's rent control policy inspired the Telegraph headline "Miliband could savage our cities faster than any bomb".
A Mail scare-piece by the impresario Andrew Lloyd Webber filled a page with the headline "This nation will be run down, weakened and broken up by Miliband and Sturgeon", and another with an amazing photo-montage starring Sturgeon as the innocent soprano Christine and Miliband as the phantom of the opera.
Before all that, the Daily Mail had repeatedly and at length "exposed" the truth about Miliband's romantic past - essentially, believe it or not, he had relationships with other women before he got married - which served only to expose him as a normal person, even to offset his nerdy image. Suddenly he became, only partly tongue-in-cheek, an object of a nationwide teenage crush, encapsulated in the hashtag #milifandom.
Perhaps the biggest surprise of the campaign is that Miliband - a man who had faced reasonable questions about his "prime ministerial" qualities - has remained largely resilient and phlegmatic throughout.
Already there are reported grumbles from within the Conservatives that the campaign - run by Lynton Crosby, whose CV includes victories for the Liberals in Australia and National in New Zealand - has become histrionic in hounding Miliband at the expense of talking up an improving economy.
Miliband, meanwhile, knows that he can confidently rule out any flavour of deal with the SNP - and not just because it would look bizarre to formally ally with a party whose primary focus is breaking up the nation he seeks to lead. He can do nothing and count on their confidence because the SNP detests the Tories, and they would risk being punished by the electorate if they collapsed a Labour minority government.
Britain's election echoes New Zealand's not just for its outlandishness - poll-watchers there are already obsessing over possible coalitions, kingmakers, confidence and supply that we're now well practised at.
As incumbent, Cameron will get the first chance to form a government and seek the confidence of parliament. If he doesn't see a way to rule, Cameron will resign and Miliband gets his turn to go to the Queen.
It could end up resembling the aftermath of the British election in February 1974 when the Conservatives failed to agree a coalition with the Liberals and Harold Wilson emerged as leader of a Labour minority government. Eight months later they were back for another election and this time, another election within a year or two is again a serious possibility. It is true that new fixed-term legislation makes it trickier, and it is true the rival parties would be skint and exhausted. But one thing is sure: the tabloids would be up for it.
Wicked world we live in
Lonely Planet
announced this week that it would no longer include in its guide books reference to Wicked Campers, following complaints about the misogynist and boorish slogans emblazoned on the so-called campervans.
Typically, I'd be loath even to mention this Brisbane-born company, given it's precisely the oxygen of publicity their provocations crave.
However, to save you the bother, I've read through all the aphorisms scrawled on their vehicles I could find, and here follows a complete list of all that are amusing or interesting or clever ...
