My friend told me a story.
Once upon a time, there was a small town in a dismal swampy land, Mudport by name, that was ruled by the eccentric Lord Pol. Lord Pol was short, aged, and dictatorial. His pet project, which made his subjects’ lives a misery, was to create a reservoir by damming the local river. Each day they would bring stones from a nearby quarry, dump them on the dam, turn, plod back to the quarry and repeat the journey over and over. All the while they would grumble about “that damn turd, Pol!” Then things became worse.
Unsatisfied with their progress, Lord Pol took to beating time with a drum and ordering them to march faster. It was too much for them to take so they hatched a plan: “Let’s punt mad Lord Pol into his own reservoir!” Some bright spark added: “Yes, and throw his drum in after him.” That, then, was the plot. Drum and drummer would be dealt with that very day!
And so they did. Lord Pol hit the water with a loud splash. The drum caromed off his head with a musical “bong!” When he reached the shore, they kicked him in the rump and told him to leave Mudport and never return. How they laughed at the damp old runt as he scampered off in terror! “Run, you damp dolt, run!” They called after him. The townsmen lived happily ever after. Lord Pol stopped using his title and instead went by his birth name.
The story puzzled me. Could you help me sort through the confusion by telling me Pol’s birth name?