The lord mayor of Sheffield told a friend last week that he wanted to go and see Mamma Mia 2 at the cinema. “Mate, no one is going to go and watch that with you,” Magid Magid was told. For anyone else, that would have either meant a solitary trip to the flicks or waiting for the DVD to come out. But not Magid. The 29-year-old Green councillor, a Muslim who came to the UK as a child refugee from Somalia, only took on the honorary job in May but has already made worldwide headlines by “banning” Donald Trump from the steel city and declaring Mexico Solidarity Day instead. (He celebrated in a sombrero, wearing a Trump Is A Wasteman T-shirt, while many bars in Sheffield offered free shots of tequila.)

Magid went on Twitter and invited everyone to join him at Sheffield’s Showroom cinema for the 8.30pm showing on Sunday night, posting a screenshot of the seat he had chosen. An hour before the screening, the Showroom bar was chocka, the film a near sell-out. Magid bounced in with his yellow baseball cap on backwards, accompanied by Eric, his patient chauffeur, who doubles as a bodyguard for the solid gold mayoral chains.

After just two months in office, more young Sheffield citizens know who Magid is than any of their MPs

Eric knew he was in for a long night, as his charge was instantly mobbed for selfies and cuddles from the diverse crowd, which ranged from schoolchildren to septuagenarians and one student who had taken a seven-and-a-half hour coach trip from Southampton. Eric would not be watching the film: “I’d rather gouge my eyes out with red hot pokers. I hate musicals.”

Twelve-year-old Cathal Uttley, wearing a “Make America Deep Again” baseball cap, was with his mum, Meabh O’Donovan, originally from Ireland. “Magid is such a great role model – especially for a young boy who is the child of an immigrant with an unusual name he is always having to spell out,” said O’Donovan. The whole Kalsi family had come along – 21-year-old Genesia and her parents Gina and Kinder (a Sikh name rather than a reference to the nearby Peak District hill). “I love that he’s caused such a stir, both positive and negative. He’s started a conversation and that’s great,” said Kinder.

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Babs Richardson, 64, had come dressed as Meryl Streep’s character in baggy blue dungarees and had made Magid Magid key rings. She apologised to the lord mayor for breaking copyright on the photos and handed over another gift, a homemade tissue pouch: “I told him the film was a bit of a tearjerker so he might want to hand out a tissue to any damsel in distress.” Magid took the hankies with delight. There would have been no shortage of people ready to dry his tears. He’s still single, said Eric, watching from the wings.

But not everyone in Sheffield likes Magid’s style. Some were cross earlier this month when he unveiled his “Sheffield 10 commandments” at the Tramlines music festival. They included “Don’t be a pr*ck” (his asterisk), “Do epic shit” and “Don’t kiss a Tory” as well as exhortations to be kind and tell your mum you love her.

Adam Bradford, 25, an entrepreneur and one of the Queen’s Young Leaders, thought it went too far. “While I and many others my age and older appreciate Magid’s irreverent style and his ability to broadcast Sheffield far and wide, to me he does not live up to the civic values we would traditionally expect,” he told me via email. “He is excellent at engaging a large number of people and raising awareness of our city, but some of his publicity stunts I feel damage his and our credibility.”

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While those on the left lap up Magid’s sunny brand of anti-Tory prejudice, it is worth questioning how they would feel if a similarly charismatic figure emerged from the right, using an ostensibly nonpolitical role to denounce those of a different persuasion. Would they still cheer if he denounced the Labour party and declared Sheffield a Corbyn-free zone? Regardless, the sheer might of Magid’s personality could make him a powerful electoral force once he hands the mayoral chains back – as long as he develops a serious policy platform and an eye for detail to avoid becoming a hollow PR magnet like Boris Johnson.

If the biggest enemy of democracy is apathy, Magid is a potent antidote. After just two months in office, more young Sheffield citizens know who he is than any of the MPs that have been representing the city for many years. Turnout was just 25% when Dan Jarvis was elected (the pretty much powerless) mayor of the Sheffield City Region in May – if Magid can inspire 200 strangers to join him in an Abba singalong on a rainy Sunday night, imagine what he might be able to do at the ballot box.

• Helen Pidd is the Guardian’s north of England editor based in Manchester