Nothing is said about killing off nine-tenths of the population, which would have to be the first step

I am for scrupulously preserving the most enchanting bits of it [Old England], such as the cathedrals and the colleges and the Cotswolds, and for letting the rest take its chance. There are people who believe that in some mysterious way we can all return to this Old England; though nothing is said about killing off nine-tenths of the population, which would have to be the first step. ... They [the industrial workers] all rushed into the towns and mills as soon as they could, as we know, which suggests that the dear old quaint England they were escaping from could not have been very satisfying. You do not rush our of Arcadia to work in a factory twelve hours a day for about eighteen-pence. Moreover, why did the population increase so rapidly after the industrial revolution? What was it about Merrie England that kept the numbers down?

J.B. Priestley, English Journey (1934), 372-4

There's a long section, of which this is part, about the three Englands Priestley discerns - Old, Industrial, and modern. He's excellent on them all, and I think a very well done archetype of the impetus that gave us the post-war settlement.

If you want to know the difference between working for the glory of God and working for the benefit of debenture-holders, simply take a journey and keep your eyes open

You go up and down this country and what makes you jump with astonishment and delight is something that has been there for at least five hundred years. And it is not its age but its mere presence that does the trick. If you want to know the difference between working for the glory of God and working for the benefit of debenture-holders, simply take a journey and keep your eyes open.

J.B. Priestley, English Journey (1934), 330

After you have seen it, you realise that it is not for likes of us to be sorry for ourselves

I did explore the Tyneside, and have not been genuinely sorry for myself since; though at times I have caught myself at the old drooping tricks and have been ashamed. There is, you see, something bracing about the Tyne. After you have seen it, you realise that it is not for likes of us to be sorry for ourselves.

J.B. Priestley, English Journey (1934), 275

Note here,  Priestley is lamenting the grinding poverty of the communities around Newscastle, not saying it is intrinsically dreadful. He is ruder about Lancashire, whose ugliness he describes as 'exhilarating'

It is absurd to be merely gentlemanly about it, like the Church of England, or drab and respectable, like the Nonconformists

I stayed there a few minutes [listening to the Salvation Army band], and came to the conclusion that if I could persuade myself to believe in the Christian account of this life - and the essence of it, the self-sacrifice of a god for men, seems to good to be true, and the rest of it, the theological jugglery lit by hell-fire, not worth having - I should either join the Catholic church or fall in with the Salvation Army. Both have the right religious attitude; that is, they are not afraid of being thought noisy and vulgar; to take the thing out into the street. After all, if you really believe that the gates of heaven are swinging open above you and the pit of Hell yawning below, it is absurd to be merely gentlemanly about it, like the Church of England, or drab and respectable, like the Nonconformists.

J.B. Priestley, English Journey (1934), 172

Behind all these new movements of this age ... [has been] the mental attitude of a gang of small town louts ready to throw a brick at the nearest stranger

Bradford is really more provincial now than it was twenty years ago. But so, I suspect, is the whole world. It must be when there is less and less tolerance in it, less free speech, less liberalism. Behind all these new movements of this age, nationalistic, fascistic, communistic, has been more than a suspicion of the mental attitude of a gang of small town louts ready to throw a brick at the nearest stranger

J.B. Priestley, English Journey (1934), 155-6

This whole section on Bradford's German-Jewish community, of which this is the climax, is extraordinarily good

Any decent provincial newspaper ought to be able to give its readers a much saner picture of the world than the popular national papers

It is good that there should be a real independent provincial Press. People ought to read national newspapers, but they also ought to read local newspapers too, for England, even now, is still the country of local government , local politics, strong local interests, and only the newspaper written and published in the immediate neighbourhood can deal adequately with such government, politics and interests. It is important that people should read that Alderman Smith said this and Councillor Robinson did that. It is important that they should realize what is happening in their own district. Gossip and chatter from Fleet Street in a poor substitute for such information about and criticism of local affairs. Any decent provincial newspaper ought to be able to give its readers a much saner picture of the world than the popular national papers, with their hysteria and stunts and comic antics. 

J.B. Priestley, English Journey (1934), 36

Sadly, much of this is no longer true.

These new motor coaches ... are voluptuous, sybaritic, of doubtful morality

I doubt if even the most expensive private motors—those gigantic, three-thousand-pound machines—are as determinedly and ruthlessly comfortable as these new motor coaches. They are voluptuous, sybaritic, of doubtful morality. This is how the ancient Persian monarchs would have travelled, had they known the trick of it. If I favoured violent revolution, the sudden overthrowing and destruction of a sneering favoured class, I should be bitterly opposed to the wide use of these vehicles. They offer luxury to all but the most poverty-stricken. They have annihilated the old distinction between rich and poor traveller. No longer can the wealthy go splashing past in their private conveyances, driving the humble pedestrian against the wall, leaving him to shake his fist and curse the proud pampered crew.

J.B. Priestley, English Journey (1934), 9