SHE'S A SURVIVOR, sure. A diva, definitely. But Beyonce Knowles is also a super-trouper. While the merest tickle in the back of the throat is enough to send most pop stars swooning off in search of a health farm, leaving a trail of cancelled gigs and shattered fans, the brains behind this year's biggest female act on the planet, Destiny's Child, has proved she's made of sterner stuff.
Despite a severe upper respiratory tract infection which had literally left her speechless, Knowles refused to stay home in Houston and flew instead to Thailand with bandmates Kelly Rowland and Michelle Williams.
The trio had been set to wow Asia's media and record company bigwigs with a showcase of their bootylicious ditties and hip-hop confections after a sell-out concert in Japan. Then the bug bit Beyonce (pronounced Beyon-say) and their gigs bit the dust.
Defying doctor's orders and unable to sing a note, Knowles hopped on the plane for the southern Thailand resort island of Phuket anyway. She's been told she can't say a word for three weeks, Rowland explains, as Knowles - usually the undisputed Child-in-charge - can only waggle her eyebrows, nod, frown, toss her hair and hold her thumbs aloft in agreement.
'It's been very hard for her. She did not want to miss the Asian trip, she was so excited about it. We were all ready to go, our crew was on the plane, we were about to get on board, but we had to get her to a doctor fast, because she couldn't say a word. It was right after we'd finished a very important concert and the doctor just said be quiet if you still want your voice.'
So here she is, for what may be a music industry first: the silent press conference. She sits centre-stage, regal and still, amber eyes ablaze, as her bandmates take up the slack and revel in this rare chance to hog the spotlight.
It's after 5pm and apart from a break for Thai massages, they've been at it all day. Tomorrow they'll fly back home to Houston. The two who can repeat for the umpteenth time the tale of their trouble-fraught but triumphant rise to chart dominance, all the while darting little sidelong looks at Knowles, as if for approval or to make sure they're on the right track. If they're bored or exhausted, they are hiding it well. They look dew-fresh and drop-dead gorgeous, each clad in painted-on denim, displaying lashings of decolletage and diamonds; Knowles with her trademark dyed-blonde corkscrew curls, Rowland sporting a blood-red bob and Williams pouting from under a wavy chestnut tangle.