First time you will probably get away with it - just make sure your house is clean or your stash is very hard to find for a few months just in case. If dibble comes just deny it - any fucker could have sent it they dont have anything to pin on you. (This works as long as they dont find a shitload of other drugs in your house)
Not everyone does. Remember operation Ismene (course you fuckin' do!). Fucking FBI sending credit card details to the Central drugs intelligence unit. Cue 22 poor fuckers finding regional crime squad at their door at 6 in the morning (me & Ismene2 being two of them).
I was up, when the knock at the door came. Opened door stark naked, with a morning glory. When I saw one copper, full face visor helmet and a door battering ram, I simply said "I suppose you'll be coming in?". So, in they come and I just grabbed the magic box, which drugs are kept in and said, "you'll be after these?" and handed it to them. After a quick search, they said, "where is the 2C-I?". Now luckily, the bag with it in was in with my drawers of electronic components (I'm not even going to say how many other psychedelics I'd ordered from the states, let's just say lots!), so when I gave them that, they seemed satisfied. The key to such situatios is to carefully control your body language, hence my excuses for not going into the kitchen (ounce of speed undergoing cleaning, on top of cupboards). If you go into that room, you will look, they willcatch you looking, then oh shit! If needs be, sit on your hands, to stop leaking body language. I really need not have worried, as after 10-15 mins, one of the coppers said, "can you put some clothes on, so the WPC can search your lass?". They had been dealing with a naked one armed hippie, with a full on erection. Sort of disorientated them. Then my ex came downstairs like she'd been brought down to be smeared in pig fat (she's Jewish). The coppers must have thought she was about to kick off with me, there and then, so once I was clothed and she had a perfunctionary search, they took me in their car pretty sharpish, to Durham nick.
Charged with possession of a class A (2C-I), a class B (amphetamine) & a class C (weed, as it was, at the time).
I'm sure it was due to being polite (ish) and cooperative (they had no fucking idea how little), that I ended up with a caution for possession of all 3.
Nothing to do with the bust, but when they put me in the cells for the night, they made me take off my prosthetic limb, in case I hanged myself, with the harness straps (what a fucking headline that would have made!), but piled my clothes on top of it. Cue nest morning, custody sgt checking and bringing a cup of tea. All I hear outside is a "fucking hell, George" (I assume another copper in the building) and the sound of a tin cup hitting the floor, all because my hand was sticking out from under the pile of clothes. Poor bugger is probably still receiving therapy!
So, if you do get a visit, no insulting them, hand them anything they'd obviously find and it gets you brownie points. Of course, answering the door in full leather and a gimp mask (or equally unexpected appearance), badly throws their concentration!