Horton was outspoken when he refused to share the podium with his Chinese nemesis, who he accused of being a drug cheat. Days later, in the wake of revelations fellow swimmer Shayna Jack had tested positive to a banned substance, the silence from Horton was deafening.

And the crowd who had tossed due process to the wind in condemning Sun Yang were wimpering that Jack was owed due process.

Can we upsize those double standards, anyone?

Then there was Barnaby Joyce.

The Nationals maverick proved it was possible to upsize the eight-egg omelette that had landed on the face of Swimming Australia with his well-intentioned, disastrously delivered comments about the need to raise the Newstart allowance.

As can be expected, his lament about struggling to get by on his $211,000 a year parliamentary salary went down like a lead balloon.

While his intention was to draw attention to the desperate plight of people on Newstart, which hasn't seen a real increase since 1997, the accident-prone Joyce drew ridicule from far and wide. Not surprisingly, the most stinging criticism came from those whose reality is choosing between eating and paying the rent.

In both instances, Horton and Joyce rushed to grab the media limelight over issues about which they feel strongly. And both fell foul of the facts.

Horton's loose accusations were bad enough before the Jack case became public, as more rational sport commentators such as Andrew Wu and Tracey Holmes were quick to point out. After the drug test became public, Horton's awkwardness was painful to watch as he dodged questions from reporters.

Joyce, on the hand, was at least gracious enough to front the media and walk back his whining. Publicly admitting he had been a goose helped defuse the gaffe.

The lesson in all this for public figures?

If you put your foot in your mouth and get caught, own it quickly and move on. Better still, think before you speak.