Until recently, those who were so minded could purchase a T-shirt emblazoned with the slogan “At least I’m not Jewish!” When this questionable sartorial choice was flagged, the company, Zazzle admitted: “We have a lot more to do”. Cue offending item going off sale, disappointing those who thought it the best use of their hard-earned cash.

It was a typical internet-era storm; big fuss today, gone tomorrow. Such scandals are ten a penny; whether you’re Jewish, black, feminist, LGBT or from any other group subject to prejudice, there’s always a “microagression’ swarming around the world wide cesspit to upset you.

Now, I have no idea whether the T-shirt’s designer thought they were being ironic or what. But in the scale of vitriol directed at Jews throughout history, this frivolous incident barely registers. Likewise, various other recent examples of anti-Jewish behaviour are hardly ones for the history books; the data showing 170,000 antisemitic Google searches made in Britain each year (given that it apparently processes more than 40,000 queries every second, it’s a drop in the ocean), say, or the antisemitic cartoon shared “in my ignorance” by the Green Party deputy leader last week, or even, dare I say it, the “Jew Ghetto” graffiti daubed in Shenley. Not nice, but not quite 1939 either.

I’m not disputing that worse displays of antisemitism are on the rise, or that being on the receiving end of any of this can be incredibly unpleasant. Equally, low-level maltreatment can be the canary in the coalmine for greater damage later. It goes without saying that we shouldn’t have to put up with this and must be vigilant to a wider threat. We are lucky to have organisations like CST monitoring things for us.

Nevertheless British Jews are lucky enough to live in an era when most people see this behaviour as unacceptable, rather than par for the course. Indeed, some of these egregious incidents are only known about because of the ease and speed of digital communication. As Deborah Lipstadt observed last week, “it’s a battle and we have to think strategically, so sometimes we have to think and keep quiet and sometimes we have to yell”.

But good lord it’s draining, isn’t it? Because it’s never-ending; these small-scale displays of prejudice and bigotry, this drumbeat of crude stereotyping, the endless conflation of Jewish and Israel from people who should know better. The pond-life that seem to exist only to spew hatred, or to pile on against those like Rachel Riley who speak out; the hate-fueled individuals on the left or right who have decided Jews are responsible for their personal failures and everything they find wanting.

I don’t fear this chorus; most of them are on or offline trolls who ought to find a better hobby. They don’t make me feel unsafe. But it’s exhausting and depressing, just the same.

After the #MeToo scandal emerged, women of all life experiences spoke out about the decades of misogyny they had put up with. For some it was rape or assault, or discrimination that saw them lose jobs, but for many, it was what you could dub “the small stuff”. Throwaway sexism, objectification, the handsy bosses, men who delighted in an unequal power dynamic. Not the end of the world, but not great either.

For most British Jews, it’s only the small stuff. There are the valiant keyboard warriors playing whack-a-mole with the trolls but, broadly, few of us fear going about our daily lives. We can be identifiably, proudly Jewish in most places without fuss — something sadly not the case in every country — and have myriad defenders across public life. While there remains concern about a Paris-style terrorist onslaught, thankfully that still feels fairly distant here.

And yes, there is undoubtedly very real and justified anxiety about what a Corbyn government would mean for the community’s future, but I’d argue we’re still some way off feeling under any active threat, as discomforting as the Labour leadership’s attitude can be.

Yet day in, day out, the groundswell of low-level antisemitism continues. And it’s this I find so dispiriting, not because it scares me, but because it’s there at all. For no reason, other than we are “other”.

Seventy-four years after the Holocaust, after decades of Jews demonstrating their commitment to Britain, there is still a core group that blames us or sees no fault in doing so. That dislikes us, finds advantage in victimising us, makes us the focus of their hatred, or simply sees us as lesser.

We may have bigger fish to fry. Yet with no end in sight, I still find myself sweating the small stuff.