We all know the quote. It involves a certain individual and the looming inevitability of a ditch. But, of course, this was just a joke. Stop taking it so seriously. Obviously he wasn’t going to actually heave himself into the earth. It was just an off-hand remark to show the true playfulness of Brexit and political deadlines.

Oh Boris, you do jest with the best of them.

“We are going to fulfil the repeated promises of Parliament to the people and come out of the EU on October 31st, no ifs or buts.”

What is the difference between these two quotes? They’re both complex, socio-economic decisions framed within colloquial, digestible idioms. In essence, this is what modern politics has become. We live by the soundbite. We are the villagers in The Boy Who Cried Wolf, waiting to be triggered.

I hate that word too, but it will ironically draw in the young people.

Each time we hear a ‘shocking’ phrase we come running. We come to be offended and show how appalled we are that such language has been used. Then we arrive, pitchforks in tow, and there is nothing. No one is in a ditch. Britain has not ‘exploded’. And we trudge back to our safe, guarded Twitter hovels.

But with each repetition, with each family viewing of BBC Parliament, our ability to become shocked is dampened. We need a bigger, more stimulating fear. We need an actual wolf.

Who – or what – that wolf is, we do not know, although I would bet that it has a horrendous hairdo. In the meantime, our deafness is heightening. Oh, there’s accusations Donald Trump said something racist? That’s not new. Jeremy Corbyn was heckled by Conservative MPs for wearing a green tie? OK. Johnson had a milkshake thrown at him? Nah, not interested.

We don’t hear how terrible these actions truly are because we’re growing used to them.

But this apathy is a problem. We cannot disconnect from politics because we are tired – it still affects us. The further we detach, the more time we allow an already toxic political environment to fester.

For those of you who aren’t up as obsessed with The Boy Who Cried Wolf story, despite many false alarms the big bad wolf eventually comes and the sheep become scattered. Our political discourse is the sheep in this tortured analogy, allowed to become fractured and poisoned by our neglect.

Ahead of next month’s general election, over 60 MPs are stepping down. Two prominent female politicians, Amber Rudd and Nicky Morgan, have specifically cited the “abuse” they’ve received during their time in office as their reason for withdrawal.

Regardless of how you feel about their political affiliations, to personally attack someone just because you can is inexcusable.

And right here is the paradox of the villagers in The Boy Who Cried story. Yes, we may be annoyed at the cries of wolf and ‘ditches’, but don’t let credible political dialogue be lost forever.

It is in this election season where divisions between ‘us’ and ‘them’ will be at their most ferocious. But don’t become desensitised. Get annoyed, and motivated. Hold what every single electoral candidate is saying to account, interrogate the meaning and intention of their words.

Political discourse will not be improved by ignoring it. Instead, we all have a responsibility to re-imagine and reconstruct our political discourse.

In many ways citizens are already leading the way – in setting up and participating in citizens’ assemblies across these islands. They have shown how ordinary people can tackle contentious issues in respectful and constructive manners.

We have the ability to treat elections differently too, but we must be prepared to insist on changing the things we know are harming society.

Apathy cannot fix the world, but action can.