Tut, in London and SE England generally, is in common use to mean ‘objects or material of no aesthetic merit, use or monetary value’. A china figurine could be ‘a piece of tut’. Any cupboard in my mother-in-law’s house is full of ‘old tut’.
Up until a Google Books search two minutes ago, I would have said: “No, no. you mean ‘tat’. You must have misheard.” I’ve never heard “tut” used like that, and I’m a Londoner of early 1950s vintage: “tat”, generally “old tat”, is the only version I know in those senses. However, the evidence is clear that you’re right, and “tut” is used as a synonym of “tat” in and around London. Here’s a line from the song ”Clevor Trever” by Ian Dury (born 1942 in Harrow, North West London):
Nothing underfoot comes to nothing less to add to a load of old tut, and I ain’t half not half glad cos there’s nowhere to put it, even if I had
where clearly “tut” had the “foot” vowel, not the “strut” vowel. And here’s another one:
I wandered into a shop selling bric-a-brac, in which a woman with alarmingly hennaed hair was sitting on a chair surrounded by what David Dickinson would describe as ‘ephemera’ and my old mum, somewhat more succinctly, as ‘old tut’.
from a book by the actor and writer Michael Simkins, born 1957 in Greenford, North West London.
So there we are: two people born in years bracketing my own birth in places only a few miles from where I was born using a variant I can’t recall ever having heard of a word I otherwise know well.
That is, I feel pretty confident saying “tut” IS a variant of “tat, n.5b, rubbish, junk, worthless goods” (OED), since they seem to mean exactly the same thing. But how you get from “tat” to “tut” I have no idea.