Sun on Sunday makes a timid debut For the umpteenth time in the past four decades, Rupert Murdoch has unleashed a circulation war among Britain's national newspapers. This time, however, it is different. His weapon of choice is a popgun. The Sunday edition of The Sun has made its debut to replace the discredited News of the World, strangled by Mr Murdoch last July. The paper, said its first leader column, would be "fearless, outspoken, mischievous and fun." On the evidence so far, it would be more accurate to call it timid, mumbling, joyless and dull. Oh yes, there was a front page bought-in exclusive, featuring someone from a TV reality show: Amanda Holden exclusive - My heart stopped for 40 seconds. But she's fine now, which is more than can be said for this newspaper. It seems to be aimed primarily at an audience of one, Lord Justice Leveson, the judge enquiring into the British press. Look how good we are, look how restrained, look how ethical: be kind to us. The paper unleashed four new columnists: Katie Price (or her assistant), formerly known as the model Jordan, who used to pose more excitingly on The Sun's Page Three; the chef Heston Blumenthal (or his assistant), offering Sunday lunch recipes; Toby Young, a dire political columnist who one fears writes his own stuff; and, believe it or not, the Archbishop of York, Dr John Sentamu (or his assistant) who - perhaps unintentionally - sent his own message to the Leveson Inquiry: "Lent is not a time for pointing the figure at others. As Alexander Pope said: "To err is human, to forgive divine"." The biggest surprise for readers of either the weekday Sun or the old Sunday "Screws" will be page 3, which does indeed feature an attractive woman wearing no bra. But she looks horrified, and her arms are coyly covering her breasts, as though the photographer had barged into her dressing-room at the wrong moment. All these features were telegraphed in advance within the business. The Sunday version, we were told, was to be aimed at families, conjuring up the image of a 1950s British household, with a boy in blazer and short trousers and a girl in a cotton frock, standing round the table going "Ooh, look, daddy. Mandella tum op. And obviously there is a strategy here: the paper cost only the normal weekday 50p, forcing the other redtop tabloids, produced by companies less well-heeled than News Corp, to match it; and half the pages are devoted to sport. The aim, presumably, is to grab back a share of the ever-diminishing Sunday market without the vast expense and - these days - political risk incurred by committing high-stakes tabloid journalism. The Sun is such a strong brand that the newcomer can be expected to overhaul its main rivals, perhaps at once. However, in the British market, seven-day-a-week journalism has always been an expression of despair: a triumph of Accounts over Editorial. No Sunday paper has achieved real success when produced, as this one is, by weary daily hacks for whom it is just another shift. Lord Justice Leveson will be pleased to know that Mr Murdoch has kept his promise: this is not the News by the World by another name. Those anxious for sensation or breasts or even a laugh will be less satisfied.