You can’t argue with the title: here is a weird, wonderfully warm morning show from illustrator and theatre-maker Scott Turnbull. Armed with an overhead projector and a stack of acetate sheets, he is our “edutainment tutor”, devoted to an anti-Gradgrind enterprise of spreading joy through facts. Today’s lesson plan: rising sea levels, youth clubs and, er, vampire bunnies. Today’s methods: limericks, songs, plinky-plonk music and lots of doodles, some done live. Audience contributions will be rewarded with badges.

The result is considerably more “tainment” than “edu” as a family saga is conjured as a backstory. Pottering amiably among us, Turnbull combines our session with the proud yet recently turbulent history of the Tees Valley Projector Club, whose presidency has passed to Scott after his father’s recent death. There are sketches of his ancestors, including the great-great-grandmother whose (fully detachable) hand was sought by Beethoven and Brian “brother of Lord” Byron. A tale of pioneering lesbian scientists in a sea cave is followed by a portrait of a man with a leaf moustache, in turn followed by a Sonic Youth-referencing tale of a rabbit relocating from Los Angeles to Turnbull’s home of Stockton-on-Tees. And there are adverts for cigarettes. Made for babies.

This makes a sometimes scattershot DIY hour, with a few misses among the hits, although the lines of Turnbull’s art are always appealing. The bunny opus is over-extended while the plot about his business’s takeover by a lugubriously voiced boss who threatens to shut down the show could use a slightly stronger conclusion. But it’s a lot of fun and our host has a lovely gentle presence, his childlike passion for art and storytelling accentuating the heartfelt tribute to his mum and dad. The final sequence is a tenderly rendered, wondrous folktale that would make a surreally superb sequel.

At Summerhall, Edinburgh, until 25 August