Britain’s census form reveals the obsessions of different eras

ON HIS RETURN for the 1911 census William Rigby, a plumber from Birkenhead, listed his tomcat, Tobit Crackit, as part of his household. Mr Crackit was eight years old and had spawned 16 children, all while working three jobs: “Mouse-Catcher, Soloist and Thief.” Mr Rigby also noted: “All the above mentioned have Breakfast, Dinner, Tea and Supper. Eat standard bread. Drink sterilised milk. Sleep with the windows open. Wash our feet once a week etc. God Save the King.” An incensed official scribbled this out.

Mr Rigby may have been driven to ridicule the census by irritation at the intrusiveness of its questions, which were nosier than previously. But the 1911 version has nothing on the 32-page form that will land on doormats across England and Wales this week asking people about, among other things, their sexuality and gender identity. All censuses are different, but all have this in common: they reflect the concerns of the governing class at the time.