It was a chilly evening in the spring of '41. A war weary Halifax had been eyeing a young Lysander across the hanger. After a couple 55 gallon barrels of 80 octane petrol he sauntered over to her. He talked a big game, how he was a veteran of 9 missions over France and the low countries (most of them milk runs). She was impressed, not because of his accomplishments, but because no one ever paid her any attention. After a couple more drinks they decided to find someplace a little more private. A removal of chocks, an unfastening of cowlings and a couple minutes later the Halifax now knew what they meant when the Lysander was capable of STOL. When the sun rose he got dressed, left, and never called her. Some say he was shot down the next month over Belgium, others say he went to Egypt after the war. Four months later the Lysander gave birth to what was obviously a bi-product, or should I say "bi-plane" of her evening with that Halifax. The little plane had her mothers nose, but her fathers unmistakable turret rudders. She named the little plane Delanne, but called her Wendover or Wendy for short. Not having the power or range to take care of her in a wartime economy. She did the only thing she could do. Early one morning before Churchill rose or Parliament took session, Lysander took her little Delanne to the Air Ministry and left her on the front steps and with a heavy heart walked away and never looked back. She left a little not that said "Westland Lysander Delanne P.12, likes being called Wendover or Wendy."
I also just typed into google "ugly Lysander" and I had 8 million hits in .000002 seconds.