The Oldie is 20 years old. The magazine launched amid considerable scepticism about its chances of publishing more than a couple of issues has survived and thrived.
How wrong was Peter McKay to write: "It sounds like the sort of project dreamed up by drunks and forgotten the next morning."
In fact, it was dreamed up by the sober Richard Ingrams in company with Alexander Chancellor and Auberon Waugh. They sought advice from Stephen Glover and then secured the crucial financial support of Naim Attallah, the publisher of Quartet Books.
Ingrams, having retired from his editorship of Private Eye some six years before, was the driving force. He was convinced that the magazine could find an audience among a generation that felt disenfranchised by the mainstream media's obsession with youth.
His idea caught the imagination of a band of ageing and talented writers, such as Beryl Bainbridge, Carmen Callil, Larry Adler, Germaine Greer, Jilly Cooper and Miles Kington.
The first issue came out in February 1992 (and it's typical of The Oldie's ethos that it should celebrate its 20th anniversary some six months late). Its appearance prompted Julie Burchill to congratulate Ingrams on "producing the most pathetic magazine ever published."
His response? It was "a magnificent tribute" that "persuaded me that we might have a future."
If one column can be said to have summed up the magazine's special appeal it was "Still with us", profiles of people who had disappeared from the public prints and might therefore have been thought to have died.
In a sense, it was based on a single joke. But, like all the best jokes, it could be told time and time again, with endless embellishments. Its fine writing is consistently informed with humour
From the off, I could see what Ingrams was doing and was delighted when, after a few issues, he offered me the chance to write a press column. (I think I was the youngest contributor at the time).
In modern marketing jargon, Ingrams was quick to build on "the brand." There were Oldie-of-the-year awards and Oldie literary lunches. But Ingrams eschewed readership surveys. He followed his own instinct to decide what would work.
For example, he immediately saw the value in a column called "I once met", a series written by readers about their encounters with the famous (and sometimes infamous). Similarly, readers also write a column called "Memory lane."
Nowadays, such reader participation is lauded as a unique feature of online journalism. Ingrams was there before the internet.
The Oldie survived early financial dramas, even ceasing publication for a while in 1994. Having switched from fortnightly to monthly publication, it eventually managed to attract lucrative advertising, including retailers of zimmer frames and incontinence pads.
But it was no money-spinner and Attallah eventually felt he couldn't go on supporting the magazine. Paul Getty took it on until his death. In 2007, an American hedge-fund manager, David Kowitz, assumed the financial responsibility along with restaurant owner Richard Beatty.
Sales were never huge, but its current 40,000 - mainly through subscription - is very respectable indeed. It also lays claim to 90,000 readers an issue, though I think that's something of an underestimate.
To celebrate its 20th anniversary, the magazine has published a book The best of The Oldie, 1992-2012 (The first twenty years), which will be published later this month. It contains some terrific contributions from writers and cartoonists.
It will be launched at a party at Simpson's-in-the-Strand on 19 July, exactly one month before Ingram celebrates his 75th birthday.
Truly, as one of the magazine's great enthusiasts, Maureen Lipman, once remarked: "There's nothing quite like The Oldie."