Shimon Cohen, the Sultan of Spin

He says that the traditional model of power has changed. The internet has made people more powerful than their political leaders. As a result, communal heads should divert their attention to grassroots movements.

He explains: “We must have relationships with all tiers of society.

“It’s all very well to see the leader of the Labour Party stand up and say ‘I love you people, you are my people’ — but the Labour Party and the unions hate us.

“Why? Because there has been a focus on leadership.”

Cohen, the campaign director of Shechita UK, takes the group promoting kosher slaughter as an example.

He says: “We’re very fortunate to have the prime minister, the leader of the Labour, Liberal Democrats and Ukip parties all say shechita is safe — but it’s not the end game.

“There are leaders in our community who say to me, ‘why are you making such a fuss? The prime minister says it’s safe’.

“They’re right. Jewish life here is wonderful.

“We don’t live in France where we can’t wear stuff, we don’t live in Switzerland where we can’t build stuff, we don’t live in Denmark where we can’t eat stuff. We live in the United Kingdom.

“But there is always a risk of us being complacent.”

Cohen, a member of Hampstead Garden Suburb Synagogue, suggests more marketing as a way of promoting Jewish organisations, and by proxy, their causes.

He says: “Take the Jewish Year Book and look at the number of organisations that have disappeared because they’re not marketing themselves.”

I suggest that this might be seen as a predictable response from a PR man, who answers all questions with a positive lean, wide smile and expressive eyes. But Cohen resents the suggestion.

“I’m the half-full man,” he says.

“Anything positive, people say ‘he’s the PR guy’. No — it is what it is.

“If there are spin-doctors in the world, then I’m probably a spin-consultant.

“Spinning the story means spinning it to go in the right direction. The notion that PR people make things up is simply silly.

“You have to tell the truth, but you don’t have to tell the whole truth, so long as what you say is nothing but the truth.”

Cohen has been widely billed as the go-to-guy by communal leaders, but Jewish organisations only account for 18 per cent of his business.

He says: “I’m very well aware that people think I’m some sort of community resource that organisations pick up, but I’m very proud of the company’s reputation in real estate, publishing and law.”

However, he is unwilling to disclose his company fees “because I would never want to show corporate clients what we charge community clients.

“It’s significantly less because I care about the Jewish community being out and proud; taking a misconception and putting it right; they have to work on marketing themselves to their donor and customer base.

“If they don’t, they disappear.”

But Cohen has not always worked in the community. After leaving Lord Jakobovits’s office, he went to work with Saatchi & Saatchi co-founder Tim Bell, after an introduction from Lord David Young.

During his 14-year tenure at Bell Pottinger, Cohen says he wrote “a number” of speeches for Nelson Mandela and counted Andrew Lloyd Webber as a close client.

During our two-hour interview, Cohen lights up at the mention of Mandela.

“We had quite an interesting conversation at one point, about Jews and about Israel,” recalls Cohen.

“Mandela was hugely well disposed to the Jewish community, there is no question in my mind about that.”

He describes Benjamin Netanyahu’s absence from Mandela’s funeral last year as “a mistake — disappointing”.

Though Cohen’s day job has brought him into close contact with political, religious and royal figures, he says: “High-profile figures don’t impress me. It’s not about being high-profile — I make people high-profile. What impresses me is strength and leadership.”

Cohen, who grew up in an Orthodox home in Wales, has retained an English accent “because my mother made sure we did — she’s English”.

He attended a comprehensive school on a council estate in Cardiff, where classmates called him George.

“I was a child of the sixties and the only Cohen anyone had ever heard of was the footballer George Cohen,” he laughs.

“There was only one another Jewish boy in my year, but I had a great time being Jewish at school. There was no antisemitism at all.

“As long as you all hated the English, you had a common hate.”

Cohen, a recipient of the Pierre Gildesgame Jewish Youth Leader Award, led the local Bnei Akiva group as a
teenager.

He recalls: “I quite enjoyed being the leader of the pack. It gave me a lot more fun than school

“I worked terribly hard preparing for the Shabbat youth groups and ideas for Sunday.”

Cohen, who read politics at Manchester University, took on the community youth officer role at Stanmore Synagogue. It was a position that led him to the Office of the Chief Rabbi aged 23.

Reflecting on his career, the father-of-three says: “I think my mum wanted me to be a lawyer and my father secretly wanted me to be a rabbi. A series of moments in my life led me to do what I’m doing.

“I genuinely believe I’m one of the luckiest men alive.”