Totally. The majority of British people hate nice things, and will destroy them if they can, replacing them with low quality facsimile shit. Or anything at all, as long as it's not obviously nice.
I think this is one half of what I call the British Hedonism Paradox.
Five centuries of Protestant self-abnegation have left us suspicious, even phobic, of genuine luxury, even in an age when most people are no longer Christian in any meaningful sense. At the same time, a far older race-memory of the druid and the berserker lurks behind our hopeless addiction to self-destructive excess.
So you have a culture where many people would think spending fifty quid on a really good bottle of wine an outrageous frivolity, yet will happily spend the same amount over the course of an evening getting shitfaced on generic lager and shots (and perhaps the same again on a gram of gak to go with it).
I think things were gradually getting better for a couple of generations – the British palate is, if nothing else, at least open to new influences – but even that progress may be lost now the country’s been taken over by lunatics who probably think the national dish should be, at best, roast beef cooked until it’s brown all the way through with a pile of miserable boiled veg on the side, or perhaps more realistically a piece of burnt toast and a slice of Spam.